


Vinculum Terrae

by Shamione



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Hermione Granger, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Do it in the woods, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter Friendship, Elemental Magic, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Good Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Minor Character Death, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:14:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 116,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23471545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shamione/pseuds/Shamione
Summary: *this fic IS still being worked on. It is not abandoned*Keen to find a power that will help Harry defeat Voldemort, Hermione finds Vinculum Terrae in the restricted section. Content to tie herself to the earth for the greater good, Hermione attempts to bind herself and her magic. Unsuccessful castings, multiple failures, and the only chance she has to succeed is Draco Malfoy, prince of darkness."No. Granger, you need me.""I could neverneedyou, git. Go away!"She knew she should be uncomfortable with the situation playing out in front of her but she only felt exhilarated.Sixth year Soul-bond / Soulmate AU.
Relationships: Ginny Weasley/Blaise Zabini, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Narcissa Black Malfoy/Severus Snape
Comments: 122
Kudos: 281





	1. The Binding

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, this is marked as under age because some places consider below 18 as under age. Draco and Hermione are both over the age of sixteen in this fic. 
> 
> This will be a multi-chapter fic, but you can also read chapter one as a stand alone and leave it at that. 
> 
> I own nothing related to Harry Potter. All characters are owned by Warner Brothers and J.K. Rowling. I'm making no money from this, only doing it for the shits and giggles.

  


"Ow! Bloody..." she cried, shoving her index finger into her mouth, attempting to cool the heat and stave the blood flow.

Hermione sighed in frustration, more with herself than anything else. It wasn't working, and she couldn't understand why. Maybe she was saying the spell wrong? Her past two attempts had both ended in a burning and bloody finger. She supposed it was not typical for a young witch to cast an ancient ritual correctly on the first try.

She gazed down at the book to her left, Vinculum Terrae, with ire as she reread the passage about proper casting technique with no surprise. The book offered little; just the symbol one should paint with a blood-soaked finger and a chant. She had memorized it a month ago when she found the text in the library.

She had been investigating dark magicks as a precaution in the restricted section one rainy night when the book practically jumped off the shelf. It had startled her somewhat, no one around to blame. But as she read through the small work, a sheer delight had grown at the find.

"Okay," she breathed. "Relax. You can do this. You _have_ to do this."

She rolled her shoulders slowly, craning her neck side to side to release some constrained tension. Hermione inhaled three deep breaths, eyes closed, as she sought to center herself. A soft breeze blew through the clearing, and the flames from the candles littered about the clearing she sat flickered as she shivered. All the warming charms in the world couldn't stave off an October's night chill in the hills of Scotland.

Even though she had yet to successfully cast, she could feel the earth's magic all around her. It was Samhain, and as luck would have it, a clear night sky with a brightly shining full moon. The grounds seemed to glow under the moon's beams, the luminous dancing across the Black Lake, giving it an appearance of still glass. It was quite ethereal tonight, even though it was the coldest night of the school year thus far. Even the Forbidden Forest was calm, a comforting stillness about the trees as its inhabitants took the evening to pay homage to their dead.

Although Hermione would be much warmer if she weren't nearly stark naked. But the author had been quite clear: no clothing.

Hermione had been in this clearing for nearly two hours now, a clearing she found just last week trying to avoid Ron and Lavender.

She had conjured candles and scattered them thoughtfully around the space, as the book demanded. Six of which sat solo in each corner of the hexagram she had drawn on the ground, directly at the center the clearing. It was a rather elaborate casting circle, holding intricate lines that connected each point of the hexagram. There was a large outer ring surrounded by small shapes indicating the waning and waxing of the moon.

The book also commanded casters to conjure flowers meant as a symbol of the blessings they wished to receive this year. It took Hermione an hour to conjure enough flowers to cover the clearing from edge to edge, and filling the trees around her. Strands of flower-laden vines hung from all of the branches once her wand dropped, like natural curtains shielding her from view.

There was a small cascade of water from the Black Lake at her back, which fell into a shallow pool that flowed slowly further into the forest. In the peacefulness of the clearing, the stream added relaxing background static. The book indicated the most potent earth for the binding ritual runes, drawn all over her body, would come from water. So she had taken mud from the stream and covered herself in runes that matched each flower's meaning.

She had done everything the book instructed, save for removing her knickers. But she was confident the earth wouldn't rebuke her for holding a bit of humility while chaining herself to it.

"Alright, Hermione. You can do this. For Harry."

She sighed, stretching the last bit of tension from her neck before training her wand to her index finger, reopening the small cut made earlier. Blood began to pool on her fingertip. Blood that had been deemed dirty. Blood that had incited the war she was thrust into as a child.

"Alligatus ego anima mea usque ad terram. Alligatus ego ad te animam meam," she spoke boldly, trailing her bloody fingertip against the ground anew, drawing an upside-down triangle, a line jutting through it just under halfway up.

Again, a soft glow lit the clearing she was in, and the burning in her finger started.

"Oh, bloody hell," she lamented, again pushing her finger into her mouth to stop the heat and blood. A low chuckle from the trees startled her, and she abruptly stood, wand leveled to where the noise had come.

"It's not going to work, Granger," a lazy drawl she knew all too well apprised her as none other than Draco Malfoy passed through the flowers into her clearing.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy? Stalking me again? Shouldn't you be at the dance or holed away somewhere?" Hermione growled, her wand pointed directly at his chest.

"Don't flatter yourself. I saw the light from the astronomy tower. I had to come to check it out. I _am_ a prefect, after all," Malfoy barked behind a laugh.

"Yeah, right! You haven't done your duties all year. Why are you _here_?" Hermione's voice raised with irritation. "Just leave me alone, go back to the celebrations."

At this moment, the entirety of the Hogwarts student body was in the Great Hall, enthralled by bats shrieking overhead and dazzled by carved pumpkins large enough to fit four first years inside. Dumbledore had undoubtedly outdone himself this year. Three weeks ago, he had announced a Halloween dance to happen after their annual feast, fit with costumes and all. And with vast rumbles of excitement, the students had dolled themselves up, seeking a bright spot in what was increasingly becoming a bitter world.

"No. Moreover, you need me."

Taken aback by his abruptness, Hermione lowered her wand and raised an eyebrow to challenge him. It was only then that she noticed he wasn't staring at her face. Her whole body flushed from embarrassment, and with an utter swiftness, she threw her hands up to shield her chest.

"Pig! Get out of here, you git!"

Draco Malfoy. _Malfoy_. Was the first wizard to see her naked. Gods, if her first-year self could see her now. She'd be absolutely abashed to know that dreamy Draco Malfoy, bad boy extraordinaire, was the first man to see her naked. She felt her body heat as his captivated eyes roamed her body and shivered a bit as another breeze blew through.

Plastering his signature smirk on his face, Draco drawled, "I'm not the one who is exposing herself for the entire grounds to see. Relax, not the first pair of tits I've seen." His smirk grew wider at that. "Though can't say I pegged you for a black knickers kind... Bloody hell, Granger, I was joking!" She had taken his distracted state and fired a stinging hex at him.

" _Leave_ , Malfoy!"

" _No_! Granger, you need me."

"I could never _need_ you, you git. Go away!"

Draco rolled his eyes and marched further into the clearing toward her. She took three paces back before nearly knocking over a candle behind her.

"You do need me, Granger. That ritual you're trying to do - blood magic might I add -" he raised his eyes to hers finally as he began taking off his suit jacket, unbuttoning his shirt, "is a two-person rite." He hung both articles of clothing from an exposed tree branch and turned back to her.

Hermione's mouth fell open slightly at the sight in front of her. Malfoy was undoubtedly no longer that pointed faced ferret he had been in their fourth year. He had matured into his features, his body leaned out from Quidditch, and she noticed his hair was shaggier than it had ever been. His pale skin shone in the well-lit clearing, making him look like he walked straight off of the etheric plane.

She wasn't blind, she knew he was fit. Very fit. She'd seen how other girls fawned over him, especially that pug-face Parkinson. And Hermione had staunchly refused to see the appeal. But seeing him here, exposed, raw, made her head dizzy.

He continued his languid trek into her circle and began unbuttoning his pants. Hermione's mind kicked into overdrive, and she howled, throwing her hands out in front of herself as a signal to stop.

" _No_!" she squeaked. Draco's hand froze on his zipper as he stared at her. "There's nothing in my book about this being a group spell!"

"Ritual, Granger. This is a ritual, and it most certainly involves more than one person. My parents do this every year. Didn't you wonder about the wording? Doesn't sound like a simple spell for an individual, does it?"

"Your parents do this spe... ritual? It's dark magic?!" She stated, stunned, dropping her hands to her sides. Her voice grew with every word she spoke, the implications of what she had been trying to do invading her senses.

Of course, it was dark magic! She had to use her _blood_ to make the ritual craft. What had she been thinking just trusting a book that had launched itself at her? And it hadn't crossed her mind the words weren't for an individual caster. She had been blinded by what the ritual had to offer. She hadn't cared.

"Relax, Granger. It's a binding ritual, not murder. The Black family has performed this binding for many generations. It started centuries ago, long before they became blood prejudice arseholes and forgot tradition," he jeered. "Though, some members of the family still find it sacred. My mother does this rite every year," he continued as he unzipped and removed his pants, sending them to hang with the remainder of his clothing. He had moved within an arm's reach of her. "The runes," he studied them for a moment, "mud from the stream?"

All Hermione could do was nod as he moved to the brook, extracting the same earth she had used, printing runes on his body. She couldn't help but stare as he wrote runes for power, fidelity, strength of character, and intelligence all over his body. Very similar to the runes she had chosen for herself.

He wandered back near her, a touch of mud in his hand, staring at her chest. She felt heat dance across her body, and a familiar feeling settled in her lower gut. As he approached, she made to cover her chest again.

"No, don't," he whispered, and she felt her body shivered at the hushed tone, her arms fell limp.

His gaze was heavy on her as he studied the rune on her chest, took a portion of mud, and filled the same empty spot on his body with an identical rune: love. Amazed by his actions, she hadn't heard him address her.

"Granger," he said, waving his hand in front of her face, and she flushed with embarrassment.

"Right well... any flowers you would like to add?" Hermione asked, gesturing around the clearing.

"You're letting me stay?" He breathed with what appeared to be surprise and disbelief.

"I don't seem to have a choice," she replied, looking up through her lashes at him.

She knew better than to trust him. Harry had been concerned about his behavior all year. But what could she do? She had failed three times trying to do this ritual on her own, and she needed this power and wisdom to help Harry in the coming months. To be able to protect her parents if the dark targets them.

And Draco Malfoy, prince of darkness, was the only one nearby to help.

"No, you don't. You need me," Draco drawled, a somewhat carnal smirk growing over his lips. His voice was so deep, and it made goose flesh needle over her skin. "We'll have to remove our underwear," he said as he turned his head away slightly. "Runes all over the body include there."

She could have sworn he blushed when he said it. A short chuckle escaped her mouth at the idea of sex-god Draco Malfoy blushing about his manhood. Wait. Had she just giggled?! Draco Malfoy had turned her into a simpering bimbo while he was blushing about genitals in front of her. What was this world coming to?

"I'll hold the mud, you first." He extended his right hand out to her, keeping his head turned to the side, looking forward to giving her a bit of privacy.

"Why me first? We should just do it together." He choked. Actually choked from her words.

"I, uh... I need a minute."

"Well, we don't have all night, Malfoy. It's already after ten, and the dance will be over at midnight!"

"I need a _minute_ , dammit!" His voice was raised, and it cracked with sheepishness. "I'm not the one who was out here naked, stretching, and moaning while sucking her finger! I _need a minute_."

His whole face was red, but Hermione couldn't help but smirk. He had been watching her, and she had aroused him with little effort. Not bad for a _mudblood_.

Though, Malfoy hadn't called her that since their third year. Genuinely, outside of hexing her teeth larger in their fourth year, he had left her mostly alone. And that hex hadn't even been meant for her. Maybe a broken nose was all he needed to see a bit of reason. Her smirk grew more full at the memory of her knuckles crunching his face.

She took her time, shimming her knickers down and chucking them away into his line of sight. He snapped his eyes shut and swallowed thickly, and she felt her face heat. She knew she should be extremely uncomfortable with the situation playing out in front of her, but she only felt exhilarated. Who said she couldn't have fun with this?

Hermione ran her finger down his forearm, scooping a bit of mud from his extended hand, and he inhaled sharply. She laughed a touch, taking a step backward and turning her back to him.

"Fine, turn around and face the other way to do yours." Draco followed his orders with no complaint, much to Hermione's surprise. "We can sit facing opposite each other. As there isn't anything in the book about needing a partner, I doubt we need to face and hold hands." She heard him chuckle lightly then sit down.

"Granger, you do know what happens after the ritual is complete, right?" He asked as she sank into a seated position.

"The book mentions something of euphoria. I imagine it must be like producing a corporal Patronus for the first time."

"Not exactly. More like huffing pixie dust. A bit mellower but certainly lasts longer."

"What?! It's being high?!" She shrieked, thrashing her head around to stare in shock at the back of his.

"Honestly, did you do any research before you attempted this?" He chuckled, looking over his shoulder at the look of embarrassment on her face. "It will be fine, Granger. You aren't doing drugs. This is... a spiritual thing. You'll have some deep reflection over the next few hours. Discover things that will make you happy and some that will undoubtedly drive you mad. But don't worry... I'll be here. I told you, you need me. Now pass me the book."

She was a bit taken back by his words. Obliging him, she turned her head back around and relinquished the book over her shoulder. He read for what felt like hours. Hours that let the fear and dread twist her stomach into knots. When he was done, he placed the book outside the circle and summoned his wand.

"Ready when you are."

Pressing forward through her anxiety, she placed her wand to her fingertip, muttering the incantation to open the same small cut for blood to pool. Malfoy did the same.

"On three."

Hermione took a deep, calming breath. She was about to attempt an ancient ritual with someone she should consider the enemy. His parents fought for Voldemort in the first war, and Harry was convinced Malfoy himself was a Death Eater. Would allowing someone on the opposite side an earthbound power be a safe idea? If his parents did this rite every year, they likely already had it. Others on his side probably did, too. And she, Harry, and the Order were at a disadvantage.

She had no choice but to attempt this now with him. She sighed, took another deep breath, and began to count.

"One... two... three."

In unison, they chanted: "Alligatus ego anima mea usque ad terram. Alligatus ego ad te animam meam."

Each ran their bloody fingertips against the ground, drawing an upside-down triangle with a line jutting through it just under halfway up.

This casting was different. Hermione could sense it from the moment her finger left the ground. One by one, the candles extinguished, although there was no wind at that moment. The circle beneath them glowed a soft green, and the runes on her body began to heat. It wasn't a searing pain; in fact, there was no discomfort at all. Her body simply felt warm. Something tingled across her skin and made her feel completely numb.

As quickly as it all started, it was over. The circle dimmed, the candles relit, Hermione's body began to cool, and she regained feeling in her fingers and toes.

"Did... did it work?" She whispered as she felt Malfoy lean back slightly so that the bare skin of their backs barely touched. He felt insanely hot and wholly frozen all at once. Hermione thought it may have been one of the strangest sensations she had ever felt.

"We'll know in a few minutes."

"How will I know?"

"Trust me. From how Mother explains it, we'll know."

Time dragged on for what seemed like hours, but she knew it had merely been seconds. She clenched her eyes closed and ground her teeth as flutters of warmth and chill coursed through her.

What was she supposed to feel? The circle had only shimmered a soft green. Surely it should have been brighter if the ritual had worked. The candles had gone out briefly, and that had to be a nasty sign. Nothing in the book said the candles would extinguish themselves.

Hermione felt a dread rise in her stomach. She had just completed a ritual she had researched very little with a man who supposedly wanted her dead. What if she had just stunted her magic? She was still developing. How could she have done this? What had processed her to forget about all her faculties?

Most importantly, had it worked? She didn't feel any difference. The only thing she could feel was the tingling on her skin and the sheer panic rising from deep inside her - what a bust. And to top all of it off, Malfoy had seen her practically naked.

"Granger, relax," Malfoy mumbled as he inched back, so their whole backs were now touching. "I can hear your mind going. I can feel how tense you are."

He was speaking so softly, so calmly that she was sure this wasn't the Malfoy she knew.

"Just breathe. I'm here."

She felt the pressure of his head against hers then. He repeated his soothing mantras until she acknowledged the tension trickle from her body, little by little.

"Open your eyes. Tell me what you see," Malfoy whispered, and it sounded like it was in her head and entirely around her all at once.

Her breath caught, and she gasped as she gradually opened her eyes. Everything had a light blue and white aura whirling around it. She could see lines of color, and they seemed as if they were dancing. She could hear the trees rustling around them as a cool breeze washed over the clearing, and she vowed she could see the wind. She felt light, more vibrant than she had ever felt before. Soft colors swirled around her as she lifted her hand to touch the trees, which seemed so far away yet so close.

"It worked," she heard, and this time it was whispered into her ear.

In her daze, Draco had turned around, slid forward, and wrapped his arms about her waist, drawing her tight and securing her in place. His legs were like a cage around hers, but she felt so safe. Like he was protecting her with all he could.

"I feel amazing. No wonder Mother does this every year."

"Mother... mother. Tell me about your mother," Hermione sang, which at any other moment would have embarrassed her. But right now, singing felt as right as his arms around her. She ran her fingers down his right arm slowly and felt him sigh.

"In a minute, Granger. Let the initial high pass," he laughed lightly into her neck.

They sat quietly in the ring, his arms encompassing her, her fingers tracing lightly up and down his right arm as time passed around them. She could feel Malfoy's sighs on her neck. The tingle was warm and calming, yet somehow dangerous. Like it was giving her life but taking from her just as much.

With her eyes closed, she savored the scenes that danced colorfully through her mind. Thought of her parents fluttered through her mind and her love for them. Memories of how happy they had been when she came home this summer asking to take a holiday and travel together invaded her. She thought of Harry and how unyielding and persevering he had become. How strong he had been after Sirius had passed. The images appeared so real as if they were fantasies that she was reliving through someone else's eyes.

When she forced open her eyes some while later, the colors were still there but slightly dimmer. The currents still flowed around her, but her head was a touch clearer.

"Malfoy?" She whispered as her fingers slowed their movements.

"Would getting dressed make you feel more comfortable?" He whispered into her neck.

"I think so, yes."

"Okay."

He sighed and uncoiled himself from around her then. She sat, rooted to her spot, as his presence disappeared from her space. A moment later, her clothes were dropped next to her.

Spinning to grab her clothes, she noticed him hindered in spot a few paces away, his fists clenched as he stared at the tree where his clothing hung. His broad back rose and fell as his deep inhales invaded his body. He seemed to glow more than anything else around him. It was truly breathtaking. His broad shoulders seemed to tower over her, and she couldn't take her eyes away.

"I can't bring myself to put that suit back on."

"Then don't."

The words she spoke didn't register as odd to hear; it was how she felt, she didn't want him to get dressed. She wanted to be able to stare at his body, see the scars he had, and see what no one else saw.

"No one else does see this, right?" she heard herself ask.

"No. No one sees me," Malfoy turned his head over his shoulder to gaze at her as his sad pitch lingered in the space between them. His eyes looked anxious, and she felt it deep within her soul.

She stood, fully exposing herself to him. Picking up her knickers, she slowly slid them on, and he didn't look away.

"There. Now we're even."

"We're not even. We'll never be even. You're... you're so much better," Malfoy spoke quietly, turning his head away from her, a dark laugh leaving his lips.

Hermione moved forward, which seemed so difficult at the moment. Her body felt light, but she had no control over it. But she had to get to him. She had to assure him she didn't think he was a monster, or that he was capable of all the evil people pushed at him. She had to convince him that she didn't agree with Harry that he was malevolent. Sliding her arms around his center, she laid her head on his back.

"You're not a monster. You mean something."

They stood there for minutes without saying a word. Eventually, Draco broke their silence.

"Mother is... exponentially better than any other human on this planet. She's beautiful yet powerful. Smart, caring, funny. Very much like you."

Her body flushed in response, but she didn't care why. Everything felt so right at this moment.

"I would like to meet her one day. Properly. After all of this."

"Sure, Granger. Whatever you say."

He turned in her arms then, their bodies face to face. He moved to cup her cheek, and for the first time all night, fear ran over his face. In a lapse of judgment, he had exposed her directly to the evil that marred his skin. He stopped, arm extended, reaching for her face as her eyes locked to his left forearm.

"Harry was right," she breathed, unable to think of anything else, and he flinched. He tried to pull his arm away, but she was quicker. Stepping back away from him, she pulled his forearm closer to her face.

"You're... a death eater."

Their eyes met, and she could see the tears growing in the corner of his eyes.

"No... no, I'm not," he insisted, the struggle to hold back from crying written on his face.

"This," she said, holding his arm higher for reference, "means you're a Death Eater." Her voice was calmer than she had anticipated.

"I didn't want it," his voice was quiet, almost meek as the words trembled past his lips. "I didn't want it."

"Then why do you have it?"

She wasn't yelling. She wasn't dropping Malfoy's arm and throwing a hex at him. She didn't feel anger. Why didn't she feel resentment? He was a Death Eater. She should be marching him up to Dumbledore to be carted off to Azkaban. Everything he and his family had done warranted it. But she couldn't bring herself to be mad. She couldn't feel hatred. The look on his face merely unsettled her soul.

"Tell me what happened."

At her words, he broke down. Tears fell unwillingly from his eyes, and he sank to his knees in front of her.

"He tortured her! He threatened to kill her!"

"Who, Malfoy? Who did he torture?"

"Mother!" And Hermione felt dense and angry at the same time. "He Crucio'd her, made me watch while he did it. Made me watch while her _sister_ did it." His voice cracked with either rage or tears, she couldn't decide.

"Father failed, so someone had to be punished. He almost killed her!" Tears were flowing down his face, and Hermione could do nothing. "He said if I didn't take the mark or failed my mission, he'd kill her while he made me watch. And then kill me! I..." he hiccupped.

"I had no choice, Granger. I didn't want this. I don't believe in this. I'm not a Death Eater!" He was nearly screaming by the time he was finished.

Her body moved without her acquiescence. Or maybe she had willed it, it didn't matter. She stretched out and pulled Malfoy in, his face to her sternum, as he cried. He wrapped his arms around her midsection, drawing her impossibly closer as his tears wet the soft skin of her abdomen. They felt connected - that best way she could describe it.

"Shh," she echoed over, beginning to stroke his hair. "Shh... you're safe here. With me."

  


* * *

  


Draco stiffened at that. Pulling back somewhat, he gawked up at the woman he desperately clung to. She cupped his face, and it felt as sweet as his mother's touch. She smiled down at him, and he almost felt the despair leave his body.

Nothing had changed, but staring up at her in the moonlight, bathed in a soft red glow that made her eyes look like honey and her hair resemble milk chocolate waves, everything felt... fine. Draco leaned into her as she bent and kissed his forehead.

"I won't let him hurt you," Granger whispered as she wiped a tear from his cheek.

Who was this girl? How could she be so concerned after all the awful things he and his family had done to her?

"How can you... how can you want to protect me? I've hurt you. Made you cry."

"You're just like me - a child in a war that should have never been fought. Fighting a war that previous generations should have finished. You're just like me, Draco."

His heart felt like it was trying to escape his chest. Granger had called him Draco. Did she even realize? Based on her gaze, he assumed she did. Her eyes felt like they were burning a hole in his psyche. They were so fierce yet so soft. She was mad _for_ him, not _at_ him.

"What is your mission?"

The inquiry shook his soul. He couldn't tell her - a stark defender of the light - that he was supposed to murder her leader. To snuff out the Order before it honestly had a chance this time around. He shook his head, indicating he would not answer.

"How can I protect you if I don't know what will be fighting me?"

"I can't... I can't tell you," Draco's tears had slowed, but the dread was coming back.

"Draco, please. Let me help you."

He choked out a small sob and pressed himself back into her center.

"He... he wants me to kill Dumbledore..." he whispered, hoping that only he could hear.

She was silent for a long, drawn moment before he felt a tear on his face that wasn't his. He glanced up, and her face was red and dampened with her single shed tear.

"Did you curse, Katie?" she asked quietly, her eyes shut, hand motionless and yet so heavy on his head.

He started crying again, hopelessness filling his heart and spirit. The colors swirling around him had turned a deeper shade of red, and it was altogether frightening. She was going to hate him. Force him to leave her closeness and never speak to him again. If she didn't have him thrown in Azkaban.

"It wasn't meant for her..." his voice sounded wholly inadequate. "She wasn't supposed to touch it, just deliver it to him. I can't sleep thinking about her at Mungos. I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologize. This isn't your fault... well, it is but..." Granger trailed off.

"I'm sorry..."

She hadn't moved, hadn't pulled away, and Draco couldn't understand why. Why she would hold him as he told her he was evil. Why she would allow his arms about her body as he cried.

A long while later, Hermione's hand shakily raked through his hair, along his neck, and down to his chin. Lifting it so that their eyes met, she spoke with such conviction, it nearly scared him more.

"We'll figure this out. But you can't hurt anyone else."

"He'll kill mother... I... I can't just stop."

"Promise me, you won't hurt anyone else."

Her orbs held a determination in them that he had only seen her give Potter and Weasel. It bred swirls of comfort and distress in his gut. Nodding meekly, he leaned his forehead against her sternum.

"I've certainly ruined the mood," he snorted through tears, moving to look up at her with a sad smile.

"I can still see the glow on your skin and the lights of your eyes. I'm sure we're fine," Hermione chuckled. The smile on her face as she gazed down at him was the sweetest thing Draco had ever seen. She made to move away, attempting to step backward, but he held her in place.

"A bit longer?" Draco questioned, and she moved back into him with a smile, running her fingers through his hair.

"It's softer than I'd imagined it."

"Think about my hair often, do you?"

"At least once a week," she said without missing a beat.

Draco chuckled quietly as he stood, running his hands up her sides as he rose. He remarked the goose flesh that tracked its way along her flesh following the pathway of his fingertips. Her skin felt warm and cold at the same time - one of the most pleasurable feelings he had ever experienced.

He pulled out his wand and cast a silent Tempus charm, which noted the time was only 11:15 p.m.

"It's only been 45 minutes?!" She exclaimed as she stepped back from his reach. Her face was flushed, and her voice shaking somewhat, as she put a bit of distance between them. "Merlin, I feel like we've had years' worth of conversation, and it's only been 45 minutes!"

"Get used to it, Granger. Won't be the last time you're overwhelmed by how much, or frankly, by how little time has passed tonight," he stated freely, laughing at the bewildered look on her face.

"I imagine we shouldn't go in until after the dance and rounds are over. So that leaves us here for a few more hours." She glanced at him then, stealing his signature smirk. "Think you can manage that much time with me?"

Her beautiful smirk shot straight to his groin. Gods have mercy on him, she didn't know how sexy she was. Walking up on her before she had attempted her final solo casting had been such a surreal experience. Seeing the one girl he always daydreamed about, fantasized over, thought of while he kissed others, sitting bare-chested sucking her finger, had felt like a dream.

"Not if you keep looking at me like that," he muttered so only he could hear. Hermione strolled back to the circle then and began conjuring heaps of pillows and blankets. "What are you doing?"

"Obvious, I should think. I don't want to stand all night, and the ground is hard. So," she pointed her wand, and another mound of pillows appeared, "pillows." She fell graceless into the heap and stretched, burrowing herself further into the warmth. Draco could do nothing but laugh.

"You're entertaining when you're inebriated."

"I'm entertaining all the time, thank you very much!"

"Yeah, sure, Granger. I'm sure you're just a box of kittens when exams are near."

"Well..."

"Or if you've been stiffed by Uncle Sev for the top grade in potions."

"Hey!"

"Or," and a pillow hit his face.

"I get it! I'm no fun!" She cried as she covered her face with a pillow.

"Oh, no. Is the great Hermione Granger brooding? Whatever will I do?" he muttered, chuckling softly, and falling into the cushion mound.

He detected her muffled voice through the pillow but couldn't make out the words.

"Oh, Granger, come on. No need to pout." At this, Hermione rolled over so that her back was facing him.

"Well, you asked for this," and without giving her any time to react, Draco gripped her side and tickled her. She wailed and flailed, while laughter burst from her mouth. It took everything in his power to not watch as her magnificent tits bounced about as she moved.

"Stop! Stop! Truce!" She said through loud shrieks.

"Remember this next time you try to sulk, love," he chuckled, relenting in his assault.

Hermione froze, gawking at him for a moment, eyes searching his face for what he didn't know. He thought she was going to say something, her mouth falling open once, twice, then closing quickly as her eyes moved to the sky.

"Tell me about your parents," he said, lying down and joining her to look at the bright twilight beyond.

"You want to hear about my parents? My muggle parents?"

"Yes, Granger. I asked, did I not?"

"Well... yes. Sorry," Granger cleared her throat. "My parents are wonderful. They were my first best friends before meeting Harry." He couldn't help flinching at Potter's first name, which is clearly noticed but chose to ignore. "I didn't make friends easily at primary school. Everyone made fun of me for being the weird girl who always had her nose in a book."

She paused then, and Draco felt the words wash over him. Even before she had come to Hogwarts, she had been the victim of cruel banter. And _he_ had been the one to make it worse when she got here.

"So they were my only friends. We did everything together. They were relieved when Professor McGonagall showed up and told us that I am a witch. They had been scared when I showed accidental magic, but they did the best they could. They were so happy to have an answer that they didn't care what that answer was. It's hard, being away from them, but I know they're proud of me."

She paused again, her eyes searching the sky, and he noticed a slight shimmer against her irises.

"I did this for them, my parents. To be strong enough to protect them from anything that the Dark may try. And for Harry, too."

"They sound great, Granger, truly. I wish I knew what that kind of love felt like."

"I'm sure your mother loves you just as much as mine does me."

"Sure... but Mother wasn't allowed to show affection in public. 'Malfoy men aren't raised that way' Lucius would always scold her. Just once, I would have loved to hug her or to hold my mother's hand while she shopped."

He felt Hermione reach out, searching for his arm. Her fingers trailed down his forearm, and it made his entire body tingle. Her fingers met his, and she laced their fingers, squeezing quickly before letting go. His fingers felt like they were on fire as she sat, suddenly, gazing forward at the shallow stream in front of them.

She vaulted to her feet suddenly and shakily made her way toward the rippling stream. He sat, his eyes tracing her exquisite figure as she sauntered away. When her legs joined water, a low moan escaped her mouth that pierced the silence around them and sent desire further into his groin. 

"Granger, what are you doing?

"I'm not sure. It was calling to me. It felt like I needed to be here. Right here," Granger stated, punctuating her statement by kicking the river up with her foot for emphasis.

"Or maybe you're just soaring on earth magic. Come back here."

"No."

His body hauled him upright then and toward the stream. He wasn't sure if he was doing this on his own or if the earth was pulling them together, but he didn't care. He treaded into the stream and playfully propelled a bit of water at her. As the beads landed on her skin, she gasped, sighing as her eyes closed, a sultry smile washing over her lips. And it went straight to his groin.

He couldn't take his sights off her. She was bathed in moonlight, the fractals he could see only served to further illuminate her innocent beauty. Her smile appeared to glow as she bobbed in the water, and he didn't want to look away. Throughout their fifth year, he had seen her grow into her womanhood. Find confidence in herself that he seemed to be the only one who knew she already possessed.

Here she was: the girl he thought he couldn't attain but couldn't imagine being without. Everything about her drove him crazy, and the more he watched her, the more he realized it wasn't dislike. Draco wouldn't have previously admitted that to himself. Still, every fiber of his being was screaming to take her and make her his.

Hermione bent down then and shoveled a handful of water. Standing, she held the water to her neck, leaned her head back, and let it wash down her front. She moaned deeply as she scooped another cupped handful and let the water wash over her again.

He couldn't help himself. The water felt like it split, allowing him swift access as he stalked toward her. He hesitated only a moment before he ran his hands over her, wet from the water. Her body felt like it ignited when his fingers danced over her skin, and her thick cry quivered around them.

Shakily, he cupped her breast, and her mouth fell open with a quiet moan. He palmed her breast with care but felt a wildfire spark when he rolled her pebbled nipple in his fingers.

As she pulled her head forward, her lidded gaze met his, and a fire burned within his gut. The next moment his mouth was on hers for a crashing kiss, and he felt her desire as her fingers clutched him. She was so willing, her body responding to every queue he gave. It felt commanding; he knew exactly what he wanted, and she was letting him take every bit.

Draco wrapped one hand around her body, cupping her arse and pulling her closer as the other entered her hair. Her hands slid slowly up his torso, trailing every line as if she were memorizing him. Her fingers stalled on his neck, and she ran feather-light touching across his collarbone.

His whole body shuddered. He'd kissed other girls, hell, his head had been between a few of their thighs, but it was nothing like this. Nothing like the way she felt against him; the way her skin caressed against his. He growled slightly, running his tongue against her lips. When she opened her mouth shyly, he drove his tongue in, deepening the kiss as she circled her hands about his neck.

Draco's other hand slid slowly down her body to grip the other side of her arse as their tongues mingled. He hoisted her effortlessly, and she responded, encasing her legs around his waist. The heat from her core near his cock made him impossibly harder with anticipation. Gods, this was the best moment of his life.

He paced from the water then, hunting slowly to their mountain of pillows as their chaste kisses became a touch more heated. Breaking the kiss, he placed Granger gently on her back and covered her body with his. She sighed deeply as her legs dropped open, allowing him access closer into her sex. He settled his hands about the sides of her body, leaning down and kissing her slowly, more passionately.

"Draco," she breathed, and he ground himself into her as the sensation of hearing his given name whined from her lips flowed through him. "Draco," she moaned, "I..."

He pushed himself up, gazing down at her. She had a concerned look on her face that made his heart stop. He had taken it too far.

"We can stop," he panted, running a hand over her cheek, cupping her face. Hermione leaned into his hand with a small sigh, closing her eyes.

"No. This... feels right," she whispered between them. "I just... I've never..." She brought a hand up and placed it softly on his.

"Me either... all the way," Draco admitted and kissed her sweetly. "Figure it out together?" He sought against her lips, and she nodded, capturing his lips for a searing kiss.

Leaning down on his forearm, he let a hand slide to her breast. As their kisses deepened again, he massaged her bust, paying special attention to her sensitive, pert nipple. When she broke their kiss with a moan, he took the opportunity to trail hot kisses down her neck, her collarbone, and chest until his lips met her opposite breast. His tongue danced across it, and he felt emboldened by the mews she made. He rolled his tongue around her nipple, biting it softly. At her small cry, he did it again.

Her head fell back with a moan, and he swore his cock was about to burst. She was so responsive to his touch, and his body felt like it was on fire. This was undoubtedly no snog in a dark alcove with a girl he merely _wished_ was her. This was real; a fantasy come to life. And he'd make sure she enjoyed every moment. Make sure when they left this clearing, he'd be the only thing she'd desire.

He continued to kiss down her body until he reached her hip. Heartened, he bit lightly, and she rushed her hand through his hair with a tight pull.

"Again," she breathed, and Draco served, sink his teeth somewhat indelicately into her other hip. Hermione bucked slightly as her lusty moan saturated the air around them.

"May I take them off?" he whispered, rolling his tongue across the top line of her knickers.

She nodded, shyly, as he hooked his fingers in the band and slid them down her legs. She attempted to close her knees at his gaze, but he held them open.

"Beautiful," he whispered as he kissed one inner knee and then the other.

He'd done this before, but nothing compared to the sight of her pink folds. He wasn't sure if it was the swirls of color around them, the earth magic coursing through their veins, or his carnal need finally coming to life, but he couldn't resist.

Hermione eased her legs as he pressed hot kissing down each until his mouth was about her sex. He could hear her shuddered breaths, as her limbs quivered in his grasp.

"You're so wet for me, Granger," he muttered, running a slow finger up her slit, gently toying with her clit.

Draco trailed his tongue along her skin. When it met her center, Hermione's hands found their way to his hair again, pulling tightly as he flicked his tongue lightly against her nub. Her whole body was tingling, and he thought he could feel her pleasure penetrate his pores. Draco teased her clit purposefully as he circled his fingers against her opening. When he gently slid a finger inside of her, her hips bucked as she let out a primal moan.

"Oh, gods, Draco," she whimpered between her moans, and his fingers twitched inside her at the sound of his given name. Something he'd never get used to. He began to pump his finger in and out of her slowly, and her hips thrust a touch forward.

Draco took a moment to let her appreciate the feel of one finger before he gently slid a second inside her. She was so tight, he could feel her walls clenching as he pumped in and out. He opened his eyes and watched her as she started to come undone. Her body was shaking, her head thrown back, and he felt a surge of pride watching _the_ Hermione Granger lose all her senses at his ministrations.

" _Yes_ , Draco!"

He felt her walls clench around his fingers as he fucked her through the orgasm that rippled over her. Her fingers tightened in his hair as her other hand clutched her breast desperately as she rode out her waves of pleasure. Her legs twitching as her walls clamped against his fingers.

Slowing to a stop, Draco leaned back and licked his fingers clean of her. Her eyes were closed, a satisfied smile on her lips, and he felt his cock grow harder at how thoroughly he had been able to please her.

He removed his boxers, moved up her body, and settled himself between her legs. He tried not to act nervous. Act like this wasn't a moment he had dreamed of and would forever remember, but he felt his arms shake as he hovered over her. His cock pushed against her apex as he rocked a bit, groaning in the back of his throat as tides of desire coursed through him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Draco..." she begged, "I need you."

Capturing his cock in hand, he spread the tip through her folds, coating himself in her slickness. He lined himself up and slowly pushed the tip inside her. His nerves were on fire; he was utterly afraid, but the warmth of her slit seemed to soothe him. And make him purely fervent all in one.

"Tell me if it hurts."

"It doesn't hurt," she breathed, opening her eyes to gaze into his. Hermione's hands ran up his body and clasped around the back of his neck with a small smile. "You feel... indescribable."

Draco moved slowly, sheathing himself fully inside her as her face scrunched a bit with a whine. He groaned at the tightness, at her wetness, and let his eyes fall closed in concentration. He felt her hand cup his face and turned to kiss her palm. She was right - it positively was indescribable. It felt like he was meant to be here, that he fit just perfectly within her.

"I'm ready," she whispered, and he heard himself whimper in excitement. She laughed lightly and smiled as he started to draw out and drive hesitantly back inside her.

Her laughter died into a moan, and it sent tingles down his spine. Slowly increasing his speed, Draco couldn't focus. The warmth of her tight walls around his cock was the most incredible feeling. He continued to move as her fingernails dug into his shoulders, his back, his hair. She was losing her composure underneath him, quickly, eyes closed and face furrowed in pleasure and absorption. It was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

"Fuck... Gods, Hermione, you're perfect," he groaned and felt her tense. Her fingers clutched at him as her nails dug deeper, and she moaned loudly as he picked up the pace.

"Yes, Draco!" She cried, and his given name drove him frantic, nearly slamming into her. Her toes pointed, her body shuddered, and she lost all control as her second orgasm hit her.

It took all of Draco's concentration not to spill himself within her when her walls had clamped around him. He refused to be a man who only gave halfway. Watching her as she came down from her orgasm, he slowed his pace, lowering himself so that their chests touched. Her legs shook as they wrapped around him, and he kissed her softly as she smiled against his lips.

"You're wonderful, Draco," she murmured, and his cock twitched inside of her.

He growled deeply, and she gasped as he started to pound into her again, their bodies sliding against one another.

He was so close, he could feel it. He was about to lose his restraint, but he wanted to bring Hermione to her climax once more. She was gasping, frantically thrusting her hips to meet his as her face wrinkled with pleasure again.

"Oh, gods... I'm..." and she cried out as her third orgasm hit her.

Waves of pleasure coursed through him as her walls shuddered around him anew, her legs shaking. Explosions of fractals and colors streamed behind his clenched eyes, and his body responded. He grunted, moaning her name as her fingers clutched his back, his cock pulsing inside her as he fell over the edge with her.

They both missed the soft red glow of the circle underneath the pillows as their pleasures combined into climax.

Their hearts were hammering, he could feel hers beating against his chest, breaths heavy as he kissed her temple, somewhat collapsing on top of her. She chuckled, wrapping her arms around him, and he felt wholly secured. Protected. Saved.

They laid there for a while, basking in a glow of earthbound magic and their lovemaking, trying to collect themselves as their breaths waned.

He rolled off of her some while later and pulled her close into his side. She ran a delicate hand along his torso, stopping at the rune for love he had drawn on his chest to echo hers.

"Is it warm?"

He nodded, and she sighed as if reassured. If both of their chests were warm, it must have just been the sex. He breathed deeply, leaning his head against hers as he watched the colors slow their frantic swirls around them.

They laid in their circle of pillows and blankets, at the center of the flower-covered clearing, for the last few hours leading up to 2 a.m.

They spoke of Draco's mother further and of how she had tried to shield him from the darkness in his home. He told Hermione of the horrors that had occurred over the summer holiday and how he resented his father for everything that had transpired. How he wished Lucius had never gone back to the Dark Lord upon his return.

Hermione shared more of her childhood with her parents. Her first bit of accidental magic, making her spaghetti float off her plate at the age of 2, much to her parent's surprise. She told him of Dumbledore's Army and how they had studied spells under Harry to learn to defend themselves. And the truth about what happened to Umbridge to his howling laughter.

She questioned why he hadn't joined the inquisitorial squad in their fifth year. And Draco had been very serious in his answer of not agreeing with "that sociopathic pink toad" as much as he didn't agree with Voldemort. He told her his decision had caused a stir in Slytherin's house and that it was the reason Crabbe and Goyle always flanked him. That they were watching him and reporting back to their fathers.

He emphasized that their, and Pansy's, clinginess had been why he refused to attend the ball tonight. They had a genuine laugh and spent a good while kissing each other after Hermione spat "Pug-Face Parkinson" through gritted teeth, Draco called her on her jealousy.

When he saw the scar on her torso, he apologized for Lucius' idiocy that had caused it, kissing it with feather-light attention. She assured him he need not apologize, that only his father held blame.

They had laid quietly for a time after that, nuzzled together as the peaceful world around them murmured. Draco still felt light, and the colors were still visible, but he believed he could feel an immense power settle in his heart and on his magic over the past four hours.

"It's 2 a.m.," she murmured, sadness in her temper that he could feel himself. "We should head in."

Hermione ran her hand slowly up Draco's torso to hold the side of his neck while she cuddled deeper into his side, his arm holding her firmly. Draco tilted her chin, and their lips met as he tried to shove all the meaning he could muster into their kiss.

"Thank you, Hermione. For letting me stay... for everything," he whispered against her lips, and he kissed her lightly anew.

They both stood and made to gather their things. Draco didn't want to put the suit back on. To enrobe a personality that didn't feel genuine. But he grimaced and slipped it back on.

He turned as Hermione was vanishing the flowers and candles, storing a now well-known book in her bag, and removing the casting circle from the ground. The clearing was utterly barren, and it made his heart ached. He knew she couldn't leave everything for someone to find, but it felt like she was slowly erasing the memories they shared that night.

The sadness he felt deep within him was echoed on her face as she finally met his gaze. Draco walked to her, wrapping his arms around her middle and kissing her neck lightly. She leaned into him, and they stood together in silence as they both questioned what this evening had thrust them in to.

"We should go before someone sees us," he whispered into her ear.

"That reminds me," she whispered. Shuffling from his grasp, she walked to a lone boulder next to the brook. "Harry's cloak," she revealed as she picked up a piece of shimmering fabric. Draco grimaced as he remembered the last time he had seen it.

"Come on," she commanded, slipping the cloak over her shoulders and holding it up for him to join. "We can use it to walk the grounds."

Draco slid in beside her, and they journeyed back to the castle's entrance. Pausing in front of the stairs to the dungeons, he could tell they both felt melancholy blanket over them.

"I can walk you down," she whispered. Draco turned to her then and wrapped his arms around her.

"It's okay, I can go it alone from here."

The meaning of his words was unequivocal as they saturated the space between two unlikely lovers.

Under the cloak, Draco hugged Hermione close. He didn't want to let her go. He knew as soon as he descended into the dungeons, this night would only be a memory. When they woke up, he would have to denounce her again, and it made him nauseous. He craved to hold her hand while walking her to class, kiss her in the hallways, and show her off how a proper lady should be. He hadn't hated this war or blood supremacy more than at this moment.

"I..." she hesitated. Pushing up onto her toes, she kissed him sweetly, to which he responded by pushing a hand into her hair and kissing her passionately.

"I don't want this to be our only happy memory," he whispered, putting his forehead against hers as she gasped profoundly.

"I promise I'll help you. I won't let you do this alone," Hermione trailed off as he kissed her intensely again.

"Goodnight, beautiful."

And with that, he swept out from underneath the cloak and descended to the dungeons.

"Goodnight, Draco," she whispered into the space he had just occupied.

Looking at her now empty arms, she saw the dried mud runes were still visible. Deciding to head towards the prefect's bathroom, she ascended the stairs to wash the night away and hopefully not Draco with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! If you've read this story before, you may notice the writing in this chapter has been updated. I did it to fall more in line with what I have written for the rest of the story. However, no primary content has changed. And I will likely updated it again as time moves forward. 
> 
> Also, if you've never tried mind altering hallucinogenics, then you may not understand some of the mentions after their casting. Why their perceptions changed so fast of one another. Or why their first time with sex was so amazing. Just be assured, it is amazing in that mind frame, even if it is awkward limbs being thrown every which way. ;)


	2. The Day After

It felt as though an eternity passed between the first floor and the fifth, Hermione's trek to the prefect's bathroom a languid one. Draco's statements of her perception of time were relatively accurate - it appeared the more thoughts that whirled in her mind, the slower time seemed to pass. Faint colors still swirled all about her to the pace of her ideas, stairs and handrails seeming to breathe as she wandered. Furthermore, she thought the castle's latent magic must always move and flow to the energy around it - she merely couldn't see it before.

She scarcely acknowledged standing near the Boris the Bewildered statue, or the whispered: "lemon bubble" tumbling from her lips, or the bathroom door swinging inward. But the sensation of magic pulsing through her wand as she flicked it wordlessly was difficult to miss. Multicolored taps roared to life with a ferocity, swelling the pool and the room with humidity and vibration.

In a trance, she slipped out of her clothing and into the rising warmth. She couldn't help the soft moan in her throat as the liquid crept up her thigh to her hips. Flourishing her wand anew, the taps fastened shut with resounding thuds before she discarded the vined wood to the side. The water made her skin tingle as she found a ledge, immersing into the warmness until her bust was wholly covered. It was as though the water was flowing around and through her - cleansing her skin of caked mud and her soul in one fell swoop.

Her subconscious began to race anew as she laid her head back against the side of the tub. How could she help Draco? The haunted look on his face as he left her standing near the stairs to the dungeons weighed heavily on her heart. The more she thought of him, the more she realized he'd scarcely been his arrogant self since the beginning of term. Arrogance displaced with subdued reservation. Self-importance supplanted with a sorrowful expression. She couldn't remember the last time he spouted an insult at her or Harry, other than the clash on the train when he broke Harry's nose in a fit a rage. He hadn't challenged her in classes or ambushed her in the halls, and he appeared to be floating through the castle in a fog.

It was more than evident now that his mission was breaking his soul apart, but no one appeared to notice his silent screams for help.

Draco's mission was an impossible task, and they both knew it. His failure would provide apt justification for Voldemort to murder every remaining member of the Malfoy family. And if Draco did somehow succeed, Dumbledore's death would not only hinder the Light but would taint his soul forever. In her research on dark magic, she'd come across it - passages of the magical entanglement that arose when a wizard or witch committed murder; a wickedness that clung resolutely on a wizard's heart, soul, and magical core, never letting go and eventually consuming them.

Although the ideals were newfound, Hermione felt a surge of refusal to allow him to slip into that sort of darkness. She would help Draco get out from underneath the thumb of evil that held him in whatever way she could. But what could she do to stand up to the darkest wizard of all time? 

Her mind scrambled with anticipation as she watched red and orange colors swim frantically behind her sealed eyelids. She knew her mind wasn't in the correct state to formulate a way to save her enemy come first lover, but his plight was all about which she could manage a thought.

With a sigh of desperation, Hermione inhaled deeply and wholly submerged herself into the water, leaving nothing for the air to touch. She was trying to fall away from the problems of the outside world. Opening her eyes, Hermione thought she could see the water's rhythmic dancing. It was like visual harmony, making everything seem pristine and pure—a drastic change from the darkness of the life around, so beautiful and unspoiled.

Her thoughts felt crushing, as though she carried no control over her mind or her destiny. Her lungs tensed, having spent too long holding the air of her survival. Like a surge of realization, she emerged from the water, sucking in a life-saving breath. No matter how desperately she may try to hide, the war was happening. And she had to find a way to protect the people she loved and the people who needed her protection the most.

Deciding long enough had been wasted trying to wash away her anxieties, she trudged from the bath as it started to drain. Summoning a towel wandlessly, to her astonishment, she dried her skin and wrapped her hair up in the towel. Although her mind told her not to, her feet hauled her to the mirror. She hated studying her appearance - skin uneven and blotchy, eyes a dull shade of brown, lips too small and nose too round. She'd never been called beautiful before it tumbled shakily from Draco's lips mere hours ago. And it was hard to believe it even then, as they laid tangled with one another. As he left her standing in the entryway underneath Harry's cloak.

Sighing, she scanned the rest of her figure in the mirror. Dull skin painted with freckles. Collarbones too pronounced, a light patch between her bust – wait. Hermione started, eyes bolting to the lightened skin on her chest, the unmistakable shape of the rune for love emblazed there. Shifting her fingers to it quickly, it did not wash away under her touch. However, it was warm, hotter than the skin around it just as it had been in the clearing. Holding the same heat that Draco's had as she ran her fingers along his skin.

Checking her arms and legs, she confirmed that no other runes had produced such an effect. It was rather unusual, she thought, that it was only this ruin that remained. That her wish for love in the coming year was the special embossment on her skin. But her fogged mind couldn't put two reasons together as to why it was solely this rune.

Shaking her head, striving to clear her haze, she dressed quickly, intent on heading to the library. Though, as she left the soundless bathroom, her feet carried her toward the seventh floor - toward her bed. The tiredness in her bones led her way, mind slipping further and further from research as she crept quickly through the common room to her dorm. The silence of slumber lingered as she crawled onto her mattress, glancing at the clock that read 3:13 in the morning. A quiet sigh left her lips, her sluggish arms fastening her curtains as her body fell limp into her pillows. Promptly, her eyes slipped shut, resigning research of her new skin imperfection and how to save Draco's soul until the following morning.

She slept like a rock that night and would have slept longer had Ginny not pulled her curtains open and sat heavily on her bed.

"Hey, 'Mione. How are you feeling?" Ginny expressed, rubbing her hand down Hermione's back to comfort her, concern spanning her features as Hermione remembered her lie of sickness to skip dinner and the ball. 

Hermione groaned, tossing a bit petulantly in her bed. She ran her tongue against both of her cheeks; her mouth's desert dryness made her teeth hurt. "I'm fine, Gin, thanks. Thirsty, but I feel better. I just needed some sleep."

"Oh, good! Then get out of bed. Lunch is almost over, and I've got to tell you about the dance!" Ginny exclaimed as she clapped Hermione on the back, leaving her lying alone in her bed.

It was Friday, and classes had been canceled due to the Halloween festivities the previous night. Hermione thought the idea of eliminating classes due to such frivolous activities was absurd, but as she stared at her clock that read 1:02 p.m., she was glad. 

Throwing her covers back slowly, she headed for the loo, stretching deeply. Her limbs hurt somewhat, her body slightly stiff and unresponsive, and she wasn't entirely sure why. Though, her appearance in the mirror was the most startling part. Small bruises spanned her naked skin's expanse, covering her clavicle, arms, legs, and lower abdomen. She couldn't recall things being so rough last night, but the evidence was there painting her skin. How had she missed the spots after her bath?

Quizzically, she cast a non-verbal healing charm on one of the small purple bruises on her forearm. It took only a fraction of a second before her wand pulsed with a fierceness she hadn't felt since the first time she held it, and all of the bruises on her body vanished.

Shock invaded her lower lip, gravity pulling it downward in parting. She had a bit of experience with healing spells, but nothing so powerful. She'd only just begun proper non-verbal casting as a sixth year, and until this moment, it had been irregular at best. She had excelled quicker than her classmates, sure, but nothing as concrete and powerful as what she just accomplished. Her wand was still pulsing, and she could feel it begging her to cast another spell.

"'Mione!" Ginny cried from outside the door with a loud knock, startling Hermione. "Hurry up. I'm starving."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Sometimes Ginny was so similar to Ron, especially when it came to food. "Be right out, Ginny. I'll meet you in the common room."

"Fine! But hurry up!" Ginny's footsteps were loud in retreat before her dormitory door closed with an emphatic snap.

Hermione dressed hastily, deciding on a simple jumper and jeans, and headed for the common room. Glancing around, she took in her surroundings as though she had never observed them before. The crimson curtains that lined the windows appeared to be shining, glistening in the light. She could hear first years laughing, which on most days drove her mad, but today filled her with an extraordinary variety of rapture.

"You alright, 'Mione?"

"Yeah, Gin, I'm really great," Hermione declared as a smile ghosted across her face. "Let's get lunch." 

The walk down to the Great Hall was a fascinating sort of surreal. The castle walls seemed to sparkle as light filtered through the stone windows, painting mid-Autumn hues upon the floor. Hermione wondered to herself how long the effects of her and Draco's ritual would last, a smile lingering over her features as she took in the etheric surroundings. Everything felt fresh as if each blink brought with it newness; her perceptions remained skewed, she knew, but everything seemed morphed into something unique. Something beautiful.

The doors to the Great Hall opened as Ginny and Hermione made it to the bottom of the staircase, and she smiled as Harry walked through. Though, her smile faded as Ron strolled out with Lavender Brown draped around him a moment later. But where Hermione generally welcomed a rage undulating in her abdomen at their togetherness, scarcely anything manifested. It was the first time in a month that the sight of Ron and Lavender didn't make her ill. The first time she saw them and didn't want to cry. The anger she felt rising in her was solely due to Ron's disgusting behavior toward her since the start of term - longer if she were honest.

"'Mione!" Harry shouted, nearly jogging across the entryway toward her and Ginny, leaving Ron scowling in a group of Gryffindors. "You feeling better? Hi, Gin," he said shyly, and the red-head merely nodded in response.

Nodding happily, ignoring the longing look on Ron's face over Harry's shoulder, Hermione responded, "Yeah, Harry, I am. I just needed some sleep. How was last night?"

"It was good. I think we made some progress…" Harry trailed off, glancing at Ginny.

Dumbledore used the protection of the Halloween ball to hold another lesson with Harry. What lessons, she still wasn't sure. Harry had yet to fill Hermione in on everything, but she knew it focused solely on Voldemort and his defeat.

"Oy, mate," Ron billowed across the entry hall, a bit annoyed. "Let's go. Hufflepuff is practicing now."

Harry gave Hermione a distressed expression, but she merely smiled in response. "Go, Harry. It's fine. We'll catch up later." Giving her a quick hug and a kiss on her cheek, he bid his goodbye to rejoin the group of Gryffindors headed for the Quidditch pitch.

"That was a little awkward," Hermione noted to Ginny, pushing toward the Great Hall doors.

"We haven't talked much this year…" Ginny responded quietly.

A plethora of students packed the Great Hall taking advantage of the late lunch schedule. She and Ginny sat for an hour as the red-head filled Hermione in on the ball's happenings. Eating, laughing and all-around enjoying each other's company. However, Ginny's retelling of the event made Hermione even more pleased that she skipped for the rite.

"Hey, Gin, I've got to get to the library," Hermione stated as she tossed her napkin onto her empty plate in a moment of silence.

"Oh, come on, 'Mione! It's a free day, don't spend it all in the library," Ginny begged her. Pleadingly, she continued, "Let's take a walk! You can go to the library later when we have Quidditch practice later. Please? I feel like I haven't seen you all year, 'Mione."

A soft smile graced the brunette's lips as her friend pleaded. Going to the library now wouldn't give her much luck anyways, Hermione mused. She needed Harry's cloak and the cover of the night to access the restricted section. "Alright, Gin. A walk sounds nice."

"Great!" Ginny exclaimed as she pulled Hermione up with her.

They strolled arm and arm through the school entrance, over the crowded courtyard, out toward the Black Lake. Ginny talked non-stop about the festivities the night prior, but Hermione didn't hear a word she spoke as she dazedly gazed at the scenes about her. The leaves seemed to glow, the early afternoon sky casting intricate shadows along the ground, mesmerizing her with sheer delight. 

Several crowds of students littered the hills, each enjoying the brisk autumn weather. Some studied while others frolicked with friends or practiced their flying. Hermione felt a peacefulness trickle into her subconscious while listening to the merriment. It was soothing to see so many seeking to keep happiness in the air. Perhaps they were choosing to ignore the outside world's darkness held, safe in their shielded school. But to see the grounds so optimistic was pleasing.

The two girls wandered along the lake languidly, chatting about nothing, until they happened upon a group of Slytherin students. Some rested on a blanket while others stood under the shade of a large tree. But the one that enticed here attention the most left her a bit breathless. 

Draco stood leaning somewhat casually against the tree, arms crossed over his chest with a wistful look on his face. He looked just as ethereal as he had the night prior. His skin seemed to shine in the sunlight, and she had will herself not to scan his form, her eyes unable to leave him. Though, she did meet his gaze and felt the last remnants of air leave her lungs.

"See something you like Granger?" came the shrill voice of Pansy Pug-Faced Parkinson, and it scratched at Hermione's eardrums.

"I'm sure he wishes," she heard herself return.

Their eyes were locked, and she saw the ghost of a smirk grace his lips. His eyes were molten as he gazed at her, scanning her frame like he remembered every curve and crevasse. As if he remembered the feel of her skin against his and the dance of their tongues.

"As if my Drakey would ever sully himself with you. He'd never touch someone so filthy when he has me."

Pansy stood then, wrapping her arms around Draco's neck dramatically. Hermione felt rage boil in her gut, but she strived to disregard it. She had no right to be offended, but the magic cracking at her fingers didn't care. Her body temperature drop, iciness invading the air around her, fingers cooling her thighs through her jeans. Draco sneered deeply, forcing Pansy away by the shoulders as she clung to him, the remaining Slytherin girls breaking into laughter.

"To get away from your shrill voice, I'm sure he'd do just about anything. Even me," Hermione shrugged with a sarcastic smirk. "Though your voice can't be helped. I'm certain you don't get enough air not to sound like a harpy with that nose."

She heard Ginny gasp and then burst out into bright laughter, the sound making her smirk further. The Slytherin girls all scoffed in indignation, but the boys began to cackle uproariously along with Ginny. Hermione caught Draco's eye anew, and he held a full blow grin on his face as he mouthed "jealous."

"Stop laughing!" Pansy's shrill voice echoed over their howling, only serving to increase their chortles.

"Oh, shut it, Pansy. Granger won this round," Blaise Zabini drawled. He shot a wink at Ginny, who flashed him a sweet smile in response. "Hey, Red," he greeted, and Hermione noticed a blush grow on her friend's face.

"Come on, 'Mione. My ears can't take the pitch anymore." Ginny winked at Blaise as she locked arms with Hermione, tugging her back toward the castle.

Glancing over her shoulder, Hermione saw Draco staring as she and Ginny walked away. He looked both troubled and excited when he shot her a wink, turning to Blaise in conversation after. Deep clearing of Ginny's throat drew Hermione's attention to the red-head, who held a raised eyebrow in question.

"What?" Hermione asked, trying to feign an air of innocence.

"You want to explain why you and Malfoy were just eye-fucking one another?" Ginny's tone was severe but quiet, and Hermione choked on her own spit.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Gin. You're mad. He hates me."

"That's not what his face said," Ginny suggested. At Hermione shrug, Ginny seemed to relent, face forming a smirk. "I snogged Zabini last night."

"You did what, Ginny?!" Hermione's voice swelled, and Ginny shushed her.

"It wasn't a big deal. Dean and I broke up, and I just wanted some company. Mighty fine kisser, actually."

"He's Slytherin, Gin."

"As if I care. Ron's the only idiot who cares about houses."

Hermione took a moment to ponder her friend's declaration. It admittedly was Ron that perpetrated house stereotypes and rivalries outside of Quidditch. He hated Slytherin with a passion, third only to Death Eaters and Voldemort himself. But Hermione knew being a Slytherin didn't inherently make one an awful person - Draco had demonstrated that to her last night.

A smile stretched across her face as she thought of her meeting with him the previous night. "Gin, I shagged Draco last night."

The words tumbled from her lips before Hermione knew what she was saying. If this post ritual bliss made her speak her inner thoughts aloud, unfiltered, she'd have to shelter herself behind her bed curtains for the rest of the weekend.

Ginny's eyes were as wide as saucers as she came to an abrupt halt. "What? You did what?" Her voice was octaves higher than typical and echoed down the hallway in which they currently stood. She didn't sound mad, merely genuinely surprised. "Shut up! I don't believe you."

Finding an empty classroom, Hermione dragged her red-headed friend in and cast a wandless silencing charm. Hermione tried to be sheepish, but her smile wouldn't fade. "I... don't know exactly why I said that out loud."

"Tell me everything. This minute!" Ginny demanded as she dragged Hermione down to sit. "How? When? How could this even happen?!"

Hermione started at the beginning, filling her friend in on her previous night. She included her failed ritual attempts, his persistence to help her, and their successful casting. She told Ginny about the high she felt and tried to describe the experience, though she couldn't accurately find the words to describe the lingering effects that still held firm. Leaving out Draco's breakdown and deadly admission, she told Ginny about how they made love and laid with one another until early morning.

"I... wow, 'Mione! This is nuts!" Ginny breathed, and Hermione could see the information processing over her features. Her friend's cheeks flushed from embarrassment, but her face held no ill will.

"You're not mad at me?"

"Little hypocritical of me to be, wouldn't it?" Ginny shrugged. "It doesn't matter to me. It's just so..."

"Mad, I know."

"Was he good?" Ginny questioned, and Hermione barked a laugh.

"It was amazing, Gin. But you can't tell anyone. About the ritual or Draco. Got it?"

"Of course, 'Mione, I won't say a word. But you probably shouldn't call him Draco."

"I hadn't noticed I was..."

Ginny laughed and bumped Hermione's shoulder with hers. "Twice, now. Merlin, I can't believe this. But... are you sure he's, I don't know... not sowing some wild oats? Harry is pretty certain..."

"Simply because Harry is paranoid does not mean he's correct," Hermione interrupted abruptly. "It was... just sex, Gin. Even if he was just sowing oats, it's not like we're dating." Hermione could nearly taste the sadness that hit her stomach as she uttered those words. Her emotions were a rollercoaster, it seemed, especially when she thought of Draco or losing him.

"Yeah, sure, 'Mione. Just be careful, okay?"

"Look who's talking, Mrs. Zabini."

"Oh, hush," Ginny snorted. We only snogged!" As their laughter died down, Ginny continued. "I've got to get ready for Quidditch practice. Don't spend all your time in the library, okay? And... Just be careful, 'Mione. Maybe you should stay away from him for a while. You're lucky no one else saw the two of you."

Hermione nodded as Ginny gave her a parting hug, leaving her alone in the abandoned classroom to collect herself. Her heart thudded with anxiety as she recognized what she let slip to Ginny. No changing the fact now, she thought as she left the classroom and ascended the stairs to the Gryffindor dorms.

Packing her bag with class assignments due weeks away, she made sure to stuff in Harry's unreturned cloak. She'd leave the library early and linger shadowed in the hallways until the last student exited. A couple of Ravenclaws could be trusted to be forced out of the doors by Madam Pince. She'd use the commotion to slip in undetected. Answers to her riddles lay within the restricted section, and the cover of night would allow her passage.

Steeling herself, she shouldered her bag and headed toward the library.

  


* * *

  
"I can't believe that wench! Who does she think she is? Stupid mudblood bitch. Someone will put her in her place soon enough!"

Pansy's shrill, unrelenting roar reverberated throughout the Slytherin common room as she paced before the lit hearth.

Students packed the low lit area, a group of first years playing Exploding Snaps with grimaces as they watched Pansy stalk. A couple of fifth years squatted on the far side of the room, profound sneers ingrained on their faces each time they glanced up from their revisions toward the sixth years on the couch.

Draco found himself envious as they packed their bags and stalked through the common room door with anger in their backward glances. His teeth hurt from hours of grinding them together, striving to prevent the headache from forming at the base of his skull.

Pansy hadn't let up since Hermione and the youngest Weasel-spawn tracked off from the lake in apparent victory. She prattled on through the day, into dinner, and had yet to stop bemoaning. Draco's fingers were nearly white as they silently clutched the couch's arm, leg bouncing imperceptibly as his lips ached from a day's long sneer.

He couldn't genuinely explain his anger, but waves of resentment crashed against him each time Pansy spoke. Not even the faint sounds of the Black Lake's water sloshing against the common room windows seemed to calm him. Where the dim, green hues of his house's sanctuary typically soothed his crippling emotions, it now only made him yearn to vanish the barrier between lake and land to wash away this entire evening.

"Give it a rest, Pans. You've been at it for hours," Blaise demanded long minutes later.

Pansy scoffed, an incensed eye-roll driving her head's dramatic turn toward Blaise. "Defending her, Zabini? Mudblood tickle your fancy?"

"Pansy, please for Salazar's left ball, shut the fuck up, already," Draco snarled, an invisible fuse finally reaching its bomb. "No one here cares about your hurt feelings. You're insufferable. Piss off - go bitch to your insipid friends elsewhere or bully some first-year into listening because we no longer care to hear your voice."

Pansy flinched, shock forming her features before her face turned red with rage. "Get bent, you pricks!" 

The loud crashing of books on stone startled the room as Pansy kicked the ottoman on which they sat, huffing and hunting to the stairs with a deep snarl. The remaining sixth year Slytherin girls hung their heads as they leisurely stood to trail her. Their visible annoyance with their dorm mate as they shuffled away was unmistakable.

"You two buffoons are dismissed," Draco intoned, turning his attention to Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, who occupied the couch opposite himself and Blaise eating sweets. "I'm not going anywhere tonight. No need to watch me."

"Watch it, Malfoy," Crabbe growled a muffled sound as he rose, followed closely by Goyle. The two large teens rounded the coffee table, Crabbe slamming it into Draco's knees purposefully as they moved. "Don't wanna end up like Daddy."

"Wankers," Draco murmured, kicking the coffee table away with a frustrated snarl, and Blaise simply laughed.

"What's got your knickers in a twist, princess?"

"Leave off, Blaise," Draco uttered, the rage undulating within him slowly dissipating the more extended silence lingered.

"Wouldn't have to do with a saucy little brunette minx, would it?" Blaise wiggled his eyebrows as Draco shot him a wide-eyed glower.

"Piss. Off."

Blaise shrugged, snickering as he laid his head against the couch pillow with a smile on his face. "Whatever, mate. Her friend's a decent snog. As fiery as her hair, that one."

Draco barked a skeptical laugh. "As if the Weaslette would ever let you within arm's reach."

"Not much nearer I could get - unless you count me inside her." Blaise shot him a salacious wink with a wolfish grin. "But you wouldn't know. You weren't at the dance. Neither was Granger, in fact. Off stalking her, again?"

"Blaise, please do shut the fuck up," Draco growled as he pulled out his wand, welcoming the weight of a hastily cast Muffliato about himself and his best mate. He felt his wand twitch again as it had this morning while he straightened his section of the dorm. He thought nothing of it at the time, but the pulse he felt now calling him to cast a more potent spell was unmistakable.

"You were stalking her then."

Storing his wand, Draco rolled his eyes. "No. I noticed a flash of light within the Forbidden Forest while I was in the Astronomy Tower. Went to check it out, and Granger was there, half-naked and moaning." Blaise's eyebrows shot to his hairline with surprise. "Don't be a pervert."

"You tell me one of the fittest broads in school was naked and moaning and expect me not to react?" Blaise snickered. "And?"

"She was attempting a binding ritual and failing. I assisted her. That is all."

"Let me make sure I am clear. You just stumbled upon a half-naked Hermione Granger - who is thought to be your mortal enemy - in the woods, looked at her undeniably fit body, and... held a ritual?" Blaise questioned with both mirth and incredulity in his tone. Draco's appearance must have given away more because Blaise nudged his shoulder enthusiastically. "Mate! Bagged your white whale!"

"It's not like that..." Draco uttered lamely.

"Oh? She hex your bollocks?"

"No."

"She punched you in the mouth again?"

"She broke my nose!" Draco exclaimed, and Blaise snorted.

"You deserved it, mate. Tell me what happened."

Sighing a bit dejectedly, Draco revealed his recollection of his night spent with Hermione. He left little out - from stumbling upon Hermione as she failed a casting to their desperate kiss at the dungeon stairs. He told Blaise how he wept into her middle as she held him and their lovemaking afterward. He tried and failed spectacularly to describe the post ritual high, equating it ultimately to their experimentations with Pixie Dust over the summer holiday.

Blaise was one of Draco's eldest mates, if not his only dearest companion; he sincerely seemed like the brother Draco always desired. It was easy to trust the Italian with his life, his deepest secrets. Outside of his mother, Blaise was the only one who knew the real him. The genuine self he tried so hard to hide to satisfy his father. Telling him about Hermione and their night together felt like second nature.

"And Granger saw the mark?"

Draco merely nodded, and he could feel the forlorn look forming his expression. "She said she wants to help me."

"Or have you thrown in Azkaban. What were you thinking, Draco?"

The blonde joined his eyelids tightly and blew out the air from his lungs. "Granger won't tell anyone... and so what if she does? I almost killed that girl. I deserve to be hauled off -" 

"You're not a bad person, mate..." Blaise announced, placing a hand on Draco's knee. "I know you don't care, but I think it's a great thing - you and Granger."

Draco scoffed. "There is no me and Granger. I'm bad for her. She'll realize it soon and turn me in..."

"If the way she gawked at you earlier is any indication, mate, I'm sure you'll be just fine." Blaise chuckled light-heartedly at Draco's aghast expression. "You two were practically ripping one another's clothes off with your eyes. You're lucky that no one else noticed."

Draco sighed longingly, a wistfulness invading his senses as the image of Hermione earlier in the day floated to the forefront of his mind. It wasn't the first time he sat pondering about the witch, but today had been different. He knew post ritual bliss was to blame, but her honey eyes narrowed in anger only made him want to smile.

Her sharp tongue had rippled merriment into his soul as he watched her eviscerate Pansy before sauntering away with confidence in her shoulders and delight in their locked sights. Her tanned, tawny skin seemed to shine in the mid-Autumn sun, her chocolate curls a halo of sweet rays about her face.

"She was glowing, Blaise. Her whole body just... her eyes..."

"Likely the come-down talking. Perhaps you should keep your distance for a few days? Safer."

Draco nodded a bit dumbly, his small smile not fading as the memories of Hermione remained. At that moment, a short boy Draco had never seen shuffled before the fireplace and stood nervously, eyes downcast toward the floor. His hand began to frantically twitch as if to catch Draco and Blaise's attention. Draco lowered the silencing buffer, stowing his wand back into his pocket and attempting not to drop his expression into a frown.

"Uh... I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy..." the nervous first-year began.

Draco lowered his head, trying to catch the younger boy's gaze with a soft expression, working to chip away little by little the reputation he long held. "Call me, Draco."

The first-year seemed stunned but relaxed at Draco's informal, accessible tone. "Professor Snape asked to see you... He said he'd be in his chambers."

"Thanks..." Draco paused.

"Jennings."

Draco nodded once, announced, "Thanks, Jennings. I'll head over," and dismissed the still slightly terrified first-year.

"So polite of you," Blaise chortled.

"I'm too tired to perpetuate this facade any longer..." Draco sighed. "Suppose I should go see what he needs."

"Ya, later, mate... and seriously, be smart."

Nodding, Draco stood to make the short walk to the newly appointed Defence Against the Dark Art Professor's chambers. Although he had a title change, his godfather could never escape the dungeons.

Knocking on the rigid, sharp wood of the Severus' door rippled muffled echos of shuffling and giggles sound on the opposite side. Draco frowned slightly as Severus Snape thrust open his chamber door in a flurry of untainted black robes and greasy black hair. Draco's face rose in surprise at the sight of his mother as he stepped inside, adjusting her delicate pastel blue robes and tucking a few strands of askew hair back into position.

It was strange to see her standing there, an effortless smile she only recently appeared to have discovered gracing her lips. After Lucius' imprisonment, she spent a great deal of energy trying to shield him from hate. From darkness. She'd endured torture for him; suffered years of heartbreak and blame because of his failures and missteps. 

Yet, she stood tall with love, even if she hadn't been able to show it publicly. She showered him with affection when she could and held him close when he cried. She was a pillar, something in his life unmoving. But her near carefree countenance as she stood at the center of Severus Snape's chambers seemed odd.

"Darling," his mother cooed.

"Mum? What... what are you doing here?"

Narcissa's expression hardened for a moment before she scolded gently, "Don't be crass, Draco. That is no way to greet your mother."

"Right… Mother, it is nice to see you." Draco neared slowly, pulling her hand upward and brushed his lips lightly against it. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" Draco questioned again as he sat down near the warm fireplace.

"Did you have an enjoyable evening last night, dear?" She inquired as she sat opposite him, and the accusation in her tone was unmistakable.

"Yes, Mother. I... didn't do much."

A smile graced her features, something so natural yet so displaced. "The school held a ball, correct? I sure trust they did for the amount of money we donated."

Picking at his robes as awkwardness undulated under the inquisition of his mother's raised eyebrow, Draco nodded and answered, "Yes, they held the ball. I did not attend, though rumors confirm it was well received." 

"You know, darling, I am feeling very... powerful today."

Draco started slightly, eyes shifting to scan the slowly forming smirk across his mother's lips. "You were able to cast your ritual successfully, then?"

"Funny thing that. I wasn't able to hold my ritual this year." Draco's eyebrows rose a fraction of a centimeter, but it was more than enough for Narcissa Black Malfoy to notice. Severus had joined her on the couch, passing her a steaming cup of tea.

"I will ask again, Draco - how was your evening last night?" 

It appeared Narcissa was already well aware of how Draco spent his Samhain night.

"I..." Draco stalled.

"You're not in trouble, dear," Narcissa offered, her smirk slowly shifting to a cheery smile. "You merely performed a ritual. One for which your godfather and I are grateful. We're just pleased you didn't maim or kill yourself."

Draco nodded a bit dumbly, querying, "What does Uncle Sev have to do with our ritual?"

"I'm sure you're aware it is at least a two-person ritual," Narcissa started, pausing until Draco nodded his affirmation. "Severus and I have been performed the rite together since our time in school. I felt the moment you bound successfully. I suppose our bloodline connection alerted me."

His mother's face was stoic, little shock showing. However, Draco's face was an entirely different story. "Wait... the two of you? What about Father?"

Narcissa's expression fell into a warm, loving one as she glanced at Severus beside her, sliding a delicate hand across his knee. "Your father is a few years older than me, Draco, as you know. We were never close while in school. However, Severus and I were quite familiar back then. Still are."

"Surely he doesn't need a history lesson," Severus spoke for the first time since Draco's entrance, and although he tried to hide it, Draco thought he could see a smile playing at his lips.

"What in Salazar's name is happening here? I would have noticed Uncle Sev in the house every Halloween." Draco stood, and his voice rose as he spoke.

"Sit down," his godfather directed.

"No!" He snarled and could feel the hairs on his arms stand straight with a ripple of magic, the fire to his left seeming to breathe loudly. "Mother, what is going on?"

"Darling, you must relax. Last night was your first binding. Your magic is particularly sensitive right now. Uncontrolled. Unpredictable." His mother's expression softened further, nearly pleadingly as she commanded, "Sit down."

"Mother..." he began, sputtering as he sat.

She merely turned her head and gazed into the fire, a sadness reflecting the flames in her eyes. "Your godfather and I have a long history, Draco. Your father cared very little about knowing me while we were in school. We were contracted to marry, but all he knew of me was that once I finished schooling, he could no longer whore around."

Draco grimaced at the thought. His mother had shared little of her and Lucius' relationship before conceiving him. Hearing now that they weren't even friends before their marriage wasn't a shock.

"When my mother passed in my fifth year, the duty of the Black family binding fell to me. Severus and I were very close by then, so he offered to share in our rite. We've met yearly to cast since. Until yesterday." His mother turned her gaze back to the Professor on her left, a thoughtful expression spanning her features.

She lingered there for a moment before her powerful gaze shifted back to her son. "I must ask you, Draco, with whom did you perform the ritual? I have never felt this level of vigor."

Draco sat noiselessly, staring into the fire. He hadn't known his mother would be able to feel the ritual - she had left that part out of her stories in years past. It appeared she had left a great deal out about their familial magicks. He sought a way out of telling her that he performed the ritual with his enemy's muggle-born best friend, but he had little fight left in him today. Narcissa had a way of finding things out - she would discover the truth one way or another, and he determined it would be best coming directly from his lips.

"It... it was Granger," Draco murmured, still gazing deep into the flames of his godfather's fireplace. "I stumbled upon her in the forest, nearly killing herself…"

For the first time all night, Draco saw in his peripherals as his mother's face registered wonderment. "Harry Potter's friend? The muggle-born girl?"

Draco simply nodded.

"Interesting…" his mother hummed. "You were meant to protect him, and you hadn't a clue he was off performing an ancient ritual with this girl?" Draco belatedly turned his gaze back at his mother, but Narcissa's sharp eyes were trained to Severus.

"I cannot stop stupid, Narcissa. And your son is rather that," his godfather replied in a monotone voice with a shrug, and Narcissa merely chuckled.

"A beautiful girl can make one do unimaginable things, Severus," his mother tutted, but Draco saw a smile on her face. Had she just called Hermione beautiful? And without an ounce of malice in her voice? She didn't appear angry with him nor at the fact that he completed the ritual with a muggle-born.

"I'm here, you know," Draco pouted.

"That does not change the fact of your idiocy," Severus clipped.

"Mother… are you not mad? She's..."

"Darling, there are many things over which I choose to be angry, but my son finding a smart, talented, determined young witch to bind his magic with is not one of them." She was deathly serious, and it sent a chill up Draco's spine.

"Bind my magic?" He breathed the question, utter confusion settling into his gut. Bound? Was he bound to Hermione Granger?

"Did you pay no attention to me as a child?" Narcissa huffed with exasperation as Severus snorted indignantly. "Of course, you didn't."

"Must I recall his foolishness for you, 'Cissa?"

"The binding is not only with the earth but with your partner in casting, as well. You and Ms. Granger are now magically bound, as are your godfather and I. Or we were until last night. So long as you bind each year, your bond will stay intact. Your magicks will feed off one another should you be close."

Severus left the couch then and headed toward his study. Narcissa held a soft smile at Draco as she spoke again. "Darling, I did not come to punish you. I simply needed an answer, which I now have." She stood then and held a hand out for Draco to follow her. "I am proud of you. With little preparations, you cast successfully."

"It was mostly Granger. I have no doubt had I not found her; she likely could have managed on her own…"

"I am glad she did not. You know, I must meet her soon."

Draco started slightly, turning an ever-increasing bewildered glance at Narcissa's unexpected statement. "You want to meet her?"

"Someday. This young woman is bound to my son, and by extension, myself," Narcissa nodded as she led him to the door. "Severus and I have things to discuss, darling. I do not wish to keep you from your friends on a Friday night."

"Mother…"

"Yes, Draco?"

"Which rune stuck for you?" Draco questioned his mother as she patted his cheek lovingly.

Stilling her hand on his cheek, she asked in puzzlement, "What do you mean, dear?"

"One of the runes I painted… I suppose it stained my skin. Is that normal?"

At the perplexed expression on his mother's face, he already grasped the answer. "We've not experienced anything of the sort, but I will explore the Black family archives for texts on the ritual. Perhaps our ancestors can guide you."

His godfather reappeared and handed him a slip of parchment. "That insufferable-know-it-all is likely there already. I suggest you also go."

Sensing the anger bubble in his gut at the insult to Hermione, Draco snatched the sheet from his godfather. It was a permission slip to enter the Restricted Section of the library, written for Hermione, and signed by himself. With an uncertain look, he murmured, "I don't under -"

"Ms. Granger will."

"Goodnight, dear," his mother offered, laying a hand on his cheek one more time as Severus opened the door. "And please stay out of trouble."

"Goodnight, Mother. Godfather."

Draco slipped from the chamber further confused than when he had entered. His mother wasn't appalled by Hermione. His godfather had been bound to his mother nearly their entire lives. And nothing made sense any longer. 

He heard Blaise's warning to stay away ringing through his mind as he fiddled with the parchment in his hand. But as he began to move, his body drew him to seek out the only person he'd been able to think about all day.  


* * *

  
Hermione rubbed her eyes as she hovered over her Arithmancy text, resting limply at a table next to the fireplace by the library doors. It was scarcely past half nine, but her body felt exhausted - her mind even worse. 

Regardless of how exhausted she felt - more than she could ever remember - she refused to call the evening complete. She had to access the Restricted Section tonight, no matter how hopelessly she wished to fall into her stiff dorm bed and cuddle under the coverlet.

Madam Pince made her rounds to clear out students under sixth year an hour ago, leaving the library eerily quiet. She could hear a table of Ravenclaw seventh years as they scratched away at revisions, whispering angrily to one another as they worked.

Hermione sighed as she leaned back, letting her head lull a touch limply. Taking a long breath, she pressed her palms into her eyes, striving to wake herself. Silence persisted for only a moment before the scratch of wood on stone reverberated, fear bubbling at the thought that she missed her opportunity for cover. Though, her heart raced as she opened her eyes due to just one reason: Draco Malfoy.

She hadn't seen him since the moment by the lake, having skipped dinner for studying. Though, her thoughts had frequently fluttered back to him as she scratched notes for Potions and Transfiguration. Reflections of their night together and the desperate cries for help he'd shed. The feel of his skin on hers and the pit in her stomach each time she recollected his mission.

Hs sauntered through the doorway with a stern expression on his appearance, and as their gazes met, she couldn't help the small upturn of her lips. He nodded faintly before Madam Pince stepped in his path, hands on her hips with a sass Hermione could almost hear. An agitated grimace spanned his features, the two appearing to bicker before Madam Pince threw her hands into the air in defeat. Draco seemed to scoff, sneering as he pushed into motion anew. 

She felt both excited and nervous as he passed her, twitching his head almost imperceptibly to the back of the library.

She shouldn't move - she knew it. She should sit here and wait until the Ravenclaws had had enough and stick to her plan. But her legs seemed to work on their own, pushing her chair back softly and raising her.

Her head felt fogged with exhaustion as she stood, heart racing as her unsteady legs drew her too swiftly toward the stacks between which he'd ducked. She sought not to appear too eager, but she nearly lost the ability to breathe as her eyes landed on Draco.

He was leaning against a stack with one foot pressed firmly into a shelf, hi toe rapping lightly. He looked like a gothic masterpiece, sleek and brooding. Pale and utterly handsome. His suit jacket was missing, two buttons loosened on his black shirt. His tie was absent, one hand in his pocket and the other drumming fingers on his thigh.

Hermione acknowledged she should have stuck to her plan - but something deep inside her had dragged her here to him. "Hi…"

Draco lazily turned his head, and her heart skipped a beat she tried to ignore as his silver pools fluttered open. "Hey, Granger."

The faint smile gracing his lips before he hardened his expression spread an irregular sort of warmth through her extremities. "Hey…"

"You said that already."

"Right."

"Snape gave me this." He withdrew a rolled piece of parchment and handed it to her.

Unrolling the scroll, she noted it was a pass to access the one section of the library she needed most, written for her, and signed by Snape himself. "How -"

"He said you would know why," came his terse response. He had turned his head away again, and Hermione admired his silhouette.

"I'm here tonight for the Restricted Section…"

"Of course, you are."

Hermione scoffed, furrowing her brow slightly. "What's that to mean?"

"Merely that he is always right," he chuckled softly. "For what are you searching?"

"I'm researching more dark magic, and their counter curses… and seeking more books on our ritual."

His gaze slammed back to her as she uttered the last word. The space between them that had somehow grown scarce felt heated as his eyes appeared to glisten with flames - holding a fire that hadn't been there before. A fire that she felt it deep in her soul.

"Mother said she would check our archives," he supplied, his eyes never leaving hers.

"When -"

"She showed up here tonight. Said she could feel that we… bonded." His pupils appeared to grow darker the longer he spoke, burning like a wildfire into her own. He pushed off the stack and faced her fully, rippling heat over her skin that nearly made her sweat, her heart hammering at his stature. "She wants to meet you."

All Hermione could do was nod. Godric, he was tall - how hadn't she noticed last night? Why couldn't she focus on anything other than the depths of his eyes and the lack of air in her lungs? She was Hermione Granger, for Merlin's sake! A boy shouldn't be turning her mind a puddle of mush. But here she stood, unable to take her eyes off a boy who only just last night let her know he didn't hate her.

She took a small step forward as he did the same, some dense, invisible string seeming to draw them together.

His eyes were like molten as he reached out and tenderly brushed his fingers along her cheek. The moment his skin ghosted across hers, she gasped softly, and a tension she'd held in her jaw all day seemed to dissipate. She leaned into his palm, relaxing into his touch as her body slowly shed a tightness she hadn't know was there.

"Are you hot?" she whispered, and crimson spread slowly across his cheeks.

He chuckled softly, "I'm rather cold…"

The longer his presence lingered, the softer his expression grew. He felt warm - warmer than any fireplace Hermione sought throughout her day. His embrace felt like it melted every bit of stress from her mind. Every bit of rigidity that her figure held.

He inhaled somewhat sharply, his thumb shakily ghosting over her cheek, forcing flutters of nervousness deep into her gut. For as proud as he seemed, Hermione could also detect a faint hint of hesitation in his countenance. It felt like it took ages for him to lean into her finally, but when their lips met, heat spread into her toes.

Their kiss was sweet.

Sweeter than when their lips met one last time early that morning. Slightly eager, but there was no coercion.

It was a tender, affectionate kiss that was practically unimaginable. Something that was still so displaced from the Draco Malfoy she knew deep in her mind. But her fingers tingled with anticipation nonetheless, seeking out the fabric of his shirt to fist within. To draw him closer. To drink in the moment.

She was breathless by the time he pulled back and laid his forehead against hers. "Blaise was right."

"Hmm?"

"He told me it might be best to stay away... but it appears I could not."

"I'm glad you didn't..." she whispered, and he sighed a relieved sound, joining their lips in a chaste kiss.

But he jerked back suddenly, his eyes widening in what appeared to be fright as he gazed down at her. He stepped back quickly and shook his head, blowing an audible breath out from his nose. 

"I'll let you know if Mother sends any books..." he muttered with a quickness. "Night, Granger."

Hermione stood rooted to her spot for several moments after he disappeared, a hand falling to her lips in remembrance. She hadn't intended to kiss him, but she couldn't deny the pull she felt. Simply being next to him had made her feel warmer and more relaxed than she had been all day.

Her faculties slowly started to form, and she registered the parchment in her hand. It brought her thoughts back to her current conquest - research. Regardless of why Snape had given her a legitimate entrance into the Restricted Section, she would spend the remainder of her night searching for solutions to the problems quickly pressing against her psyche.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter last updated: 10/08/2020
> 
> For older readers and re-readers: this chapter has been edited from the original version. No story content has changed, merely the writing has been improved.


	3. A New Partner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slowly but surely working my way through this. 
> 
> Thanks to my wonderful Alpha, Beta and best friend Lunarlyy.
> 
> Grammerly was my word processor so hate it not me!
> 
> I own nothing related to Harry Potter.

"Umph," Draco grunted as a fairly hefty package was dumped on his stomach, shaking him from a nap. Opening his eyes, he saw Blaise hovering over him with an irritated look on his face. 

"Get up, mate. You're not sick. Stop being a pussy, man up." Blaise snapped, and Draco waved him off. 

"Piss off, Blaise. Answer's no, just like yesterday." Draco remarked as he shifted the package to the side and rolled over. He tried to stretch some of the tension away that he could feel throughout his body. 

"You haven't left this room in four days. You come back here slamming doors and mumbling to yourself Saturday night and then don't leave the bed. Am I going to have to call Snape? Get up. Go to class. And I'm not your bloody messenger boy." Blaise tossed a crumpled piece of parchment at Draco's face as he made to leave the room.

Laying alone in the silence that consumed him, Draco reflected back to Saturday night. He'd left his godfather's chamber utterly astonished at the interaction between himself and his mother. And confused by the synergy between his mother and his godfather. Then stepping into the library had been a headache. Madam Pince tried to shoo him back out, but Draco had declared Professor Snape required an obscure potions book he had to retrieve. She had rolled her eyes and grumbled something about lazy men as she yielded her attack.

When his sights ultimately settled on Hermione, she had her neck stretched, exposing the long lines that led down her unbuttoned shirt. It had left him utterly breathless. She looked stunning with her hair all wild from running her hands through it while she studied. It was a frequent habit of hers that Draco had noticed over the years. The more intently she worked, the more she tousled her hair. 

When their eyes had met, his heart sang. It had taken everything in him not to stop at Hermione's table and snog her silly. Managing a bow toward the back of the library, he hoped she would understand as nervousness permeated his gut. He had attempted to calm himself before she shuffled around the stacks, but one word of her voice lit his body on fire. 

He hadn't expected to kiss her; he had intended to just drop the permission slip and go. Her soft voice and simple smile had been innocent, he knew. But when she spoke about the ritual, declaring it their ritual, he had lost all control. The gap between them had been excruciating; he couldn't stop himself from stepping in closer. Her lips had felt like pure magic, soft yet demanding. 

But fear had risen in him when he recognized how exposed they had left themselves. He'd lost control in a public setting and snogged Hermione, putting not only her but himself in danger. He thought about how simple-minded he had been to show such carelessness. How uncontrolled he had felt just being so close to her made him nauseous. 

Which led to this: laying alone in his bed for four days, no shower, no food, only the water he conjured from his wand. If he lingered in bed, he wouldn't have to see Hermione. Wouldn't have to act like he despised her when all he craved to do was hold her. Sure, he knew it was cowardly, but when had that stopped him? 

Draco thumbed the neatly wrapped silver package, adorned with a card that held his name in his mother's handwriting. The books, he thought to himself. He chose to read the letter Blaise had thrown at his face first. To his surprise, it was also from his mother. 

_Blaise,_

_I do hope you are enjoying your sixth year. The manor is too chilling with you and Draco away. Did you attend the Halloween ball? I have heard it was quite a hit._

_If you would not mind, can you please deliver this to Draco? My owl has returned twice, package undelivered. It is essential he receives this._

_Do think about staying with Draco at Hogwarts over the Christmas holidays. It would be advantageous for you to remain in place._

_Love,  
Mum_

He felt a wave of relief wash over him as he read the last line. He had dreaded the thought of going home to that monster during Christmas. But he also felt a fear in the fact that it would leave his mother alone for so long. He knew she could hold her own, but having an inability to protect her should she need it weighed heavy on him. He removed the letter that sat snugly under his package's ribbon. Sighing to himself, he broke through the Black family seal, removing the ornate parchment. 

_My Dragon,_

_It was wonderful to see you Friday evening. I fret while you are away. Everything here at the manor is typical._

_I perused the archives, and discovered one book that may benefit you. From what I can tell, it is a Black family account of their rituals. It seems we have been remiss in true tradition these past several centuries. I have marked several passages you may find appealing._

_Also enclosed is a gift for your friend. Do make sure she receives it. It will recognize her._

_I know you are very busy this year, darling. It would be amenable to me should you choose to stay at school during your winter holiday._

_Yours,  
Mum_

Sitting up in bed, Draco drew the package into his lap. Experimenting with his strength, he waved a hand atop the box, and the shiny silver paper ripped with a non-verbal spell. He may have not moved from his bed, but he hadn't stopped feeling the itch to cast. He was astonished by the wandless magic he could harness. Yesterday he had held fire in his hand, no wand required for combustion. 

Flipping to the first page his mother had earmarked, he started to read. It was a rather lengthy passage, filling almost 3 pages, and according to the date had been penned on Samhain night 1745. Some of the ink had worn away, either from frequent use or time. The handwriting was remarkably thin and had feminine scrawl. Draco noticed the passage was composed in early French that he could barely translate. 

What he could translate talked of a marriage unheard but blessed by nature. The two had been young sweethearts from different backgrounds, who had fallen in love regardless of their differences. A Black family tradition was spoken of, of a bond made from a virtue given on Sahmian night. They wrote about the ritual for a length, mentioning feeling euphoria and watching their partner shine. They spoke of their casting in shades of green and red. An undeniable draw toward their lover. Reading the passage had felt almost nostalgic for Draco. 

Turning pages, Draco scanned more of the pages his mother had designated. He noticed the title on the second entry read 1764, and the third 1783. Each earmarked section sat 19 years apart, precisely. But the entries all read as though they were written by the same person. They all spoke of the same feelings, the same occurrences, and all were signed, in Latin, with _Alligatus ego ad te animam meam._

"I am bound to you, my soul," Draco whispered as he placed the book on his lap. He remembered the words of the chant he had spoken less than a week ago with Hermione. Draco's subconscious wandered then to their casting, and how Hermione had appeared to glow in the moonlight. How she had worked her fingers through his hair while she calmed him. How he couldn't explain why he had followed her into the brook, other than feeling drawn to her. How relaxed he had felt four nights ago when he had kissed her goodnight. 

Reminiscing of her reminded him of his mother’s present waiting to be delivered. He was astounded to see a single sapphire pendant connected to a long, shimmering silver chain as he snapped the jaws of the jewelry box open. Draco knew the string immediately. How could he not? His mother wore it nearly every day. It was a Black family heirloom, carved by goblins centuries ago. It had been handed down through the women in his line at the time of their nuptials.

The door crashing open then shut brought Draco back to the present. 

"Awake finally?" Blaise said with an annoyed pitch. 

"Yeah, Blaise. Sorry about the package," Draco held up the book for emphasis. 

"Whatever. Just go to class, you've already missed Ancient Ruins class." 

"It will recognize her…" he whispered, echoing his mother's words as his eyes grew wide. It had taken time to register in Draco's subconscious what this gift suggested. The readings had been about marriage, a spiritual joining of souls. He looked between the book and the jewel he clutched in his hand with a furrow to his brow. 

"What, mate?" Blaise questioned, and it shook Draco from his reflection. 

Flinging back his blankets in haste, he made for the loo to dress. He may have missed Hermione in Runes this morning, but he could catch her in Arithmancy. Racing through his morning routine, he took a moment to push the letter and gifts from his mother into his bag before racing from the door as Blaise gave him a concerned stare.

* * *

Hermione was wholly agitated, and it wasn't yet half nine. She and Ron had gotten into another row this morning while she talked to Harry in the common room. Ron had made a snap comment to Harry, and she had simply exploded. She hadn't actually been mad at Ron, but he had merely gotten in her way and was an obvious target. Truth be told, she couldn't distinguish why she felt so uneasy and distant.

Sitting in the Arithmancy classroom, Hermione drummed her fingers on the desk in a temper, waiting on other students to arrive. Professor Vector strode into the room with a sunny greeting. "Ah, good morning, Ms. Granger!" The professor flicked her wand, and the window shades flung open, filling the stuffy classroom with light. 

"Good morning, professor," Hermione spoke with a bite in her tone. Her anger, and the tension in her body, had slowly risen since Saturday night. Here she sat in her favorite class, unable to even enjoy the lesson. 

Students began to file through the door as the clock hands moved closer to 9:30 a.m. Professor Vector was animatedly chatting with two Ravenclaw students who had approached her desk. Padma Patel sat down at the table with Hermione, and they politely chattered about the lesson from Alchemy the prior day. 

"Good morning, students!" Professor Vector announced as the room grew calm. Hermione scanned the students that had filled the room and saw no indication of pale blonde hair. She grew more agitated and huffed to herself as Professor Vector continued. 

"As some of you heard in your Ancient Runes class this morning, we will be offering a combined curric…" the door slammed open, and Draco wandered into the classroom. He looked annoyed as the professor addressed him. "Ah, Mr. Malfoy. Nice of you to join us...9 minutes late." 

"Fashionable?" He joked with a cocky smirk on his face, which bothered Hermione. How dare he disappear for days without any news and then saunter into class, _late_ , acting like his old arrogant self. _And_ disrupting her education. It made her even more irritated that she couldn't help but notice he looked utterly handsome doing so. 

"Find a seat." Professor Vector intoned as she continued to talk about the partnered assignment. 

Draco sauntered his way to the seat behind Hermione, which was currently occupied by Terry Boot. "Move over." Draco hummed, and Hermione whipped her head around and stared him down with an angry face. 

She whispered, but it came out angrier. "You can't just tell someone to move!"

"He's in the seat I want. Move, Boot." Draco declared again.

"You were late, find another seat! There are plenty over there," she snapped as she pointed to the far side of the classroom.

"Scared, Granger? Afraid I might bite?" He smirked at her, and she thought his eyes held a hint of desire.

"A flobberworm can't bite, they don't have teeth." Both Padme and Terry sniggered as Hermione gave him a sly grin. She was mad at him, but his presence had made her calmer than she had been in days. 

"Is there an issue, Mr. Malfoy" came Professor Vector's booming voice. 

"No, Professor. I was just asking Terry for notes from this morning's Runes class." Draco gave Professor Vector a lopsided grin as he dropped a hand onto Terry's shoulder from behind. Leaning over, Draco held Hermione's gaze, and she could see his pupils were dilated. "Move, Boot," he whispered dangerously without breaking her eye contact. Terry shuffled down the table with an annoyed leer on his face. "Smart man, Boot." 

"You can't just get anything you want, Malfoy," she snarled as Draco sank into the chair behind her.

"We'll see, Granger." He winked at her, and she noted how fired his eyes were. His gaze on her was hot, and her body flushed in response. Hermione wrinkled her nose and twisted back toward the board with a huff. Her inner monologue began the tirade she would have given him had she had the chance. 

A small paper beetle caught her attention as it crawled up her table and onto her Numerology and Grammatica textbook. She smirked as her anger took over, and she crushed the paper bug with her fist. She knew it had come from the irritating prat behind her, and she wanted no piece of it. 

Another beetle crept onto her desk from the opposite side, and she destroyed it, as well. As the third beetle waddled its way over the side of the table, she groaned and slapped it harder than she had anticipated. A loud bang rang out through the room, surprising Padma, who gasped aloud, and Hermione's face immediately tinged red.

"Ms. Granger?" Professor Vector called, and Hermione yelped in surprise. 

"Sorry, Professor… my hand… fell asleep…" Professor Vector gave her an odd glance but kept speaking. Hermione heard Draco snicker behind her and shot a scowl over her shoulder. A fourth paper bug crawled up her desk and unfolded itself on top of her textbook. 

_We need to meet._

Hermione crumpled the missive and set it aside as she continued to copy the board. Another beetle crept over her forearm and opened itself. 

_Tonight._

Annoyed, she scribbled, "I'm busy," and the paper beetle made the short journey back to its caster. She heard Draco sniff in annoyance, and it made her smirk with delight at his annoyance. She could feel his gaze on her back as she heard him write a brief message. 

_Busy?_

The note read as the beetle unwound. "Some of us show up to class," Hermione scrawled, underlining "show up" for emphasis. 

In Ancient Runes, she had partnered with Tracey Davis to complete the dual course assignment. The project would take the rest of the term and would decide their final grade for both courses. It had sounded rather rigorous, and half of Hermione had hoped Draco would show before the end of class so they could partner together. He was second best to her, so a passing grade was definite. But he had been entirely absent again, which had only served to increase her annoyance. 

Draco huffed but no more paper missives invaded her workspace. By the time Professor Vector finished her lecture, Hermione's hand ached. She packed her things and cast a gaze over her shoulder but Draco was nowhere to be seen. She rolled her eyes as she blew a breath out of her nose. 

"Hi Hermione," she heard behind her. 

"Hi Tracey," she greeted the thin, pale, absolutely stunning brunette with a warm grin as she turned to face her. 

"Tonight still alright? Library at 8, after dinner?" Tracey's face held no ill will. She cast a bright smile to Hermione as she spoke. 

"That's perfect. I'll see you there." She promised, and the Slytherin girl nodded and made her exit. 

The rest of Hermione's day had been tense. Or she had been, at least. The calmness she had felt in Arithmancy had vanished just as quickly as Draco had. She felt the anger pulsing through her again, and the stiffness in her shoulders return. 

Dinner had been an experience, to say the least. Ginny and Dean, who had gotten back together yesterday, got into a massive row. Their fight ended with Ginny pouring her pumpkin juice on Dean's head as students from adjoining tables cheered her. She had made a rather expressive, dramatic departure, but Hermione had missed the whole conversation that led to the event. Her thoughts had fallen to Draco as she noticed his absence from dinner. 

Choosing to head to the library a bit early, hoping it would help with her annoyance, she shouldered her bookbag and left the rowdy Great Hall behind. Making a note to find Ginny after studying, she made her way toward the ornate library doors, hoping for a peaceful evening of study. 

Settling her things on a quiet table as she entered, Hermione set out to grab a few extra texts she and Tracey needed. As she pulled the tenth book down from the racks 20 minutes later, nearly toppling over under the load, she resigned herself to the works she currently carried. Rounding the stacks back to her table, she saw a flash of pale blonde hair, and her heart beat against its cage.

"You're late, Granger," Draco drawled as Hermione slammed the stack of books down on the table. The students around them jumped at the noise and gave Hermione a harsh glare. "Honestly, you're a witch. Why don't you levitate these?" 

"Shove off, Malfoy. Why are you here? I'm meeting Tracey." Hermione spat. 

"You're not." He responded frankly. His chair was leaned back on its hind legs. He had an arm on the back of the chair next to him and a sly grin on his face. He was so irritatingly sexy wearing the grin he cultivated so well.

"I am!" She growled. "Tracey and I are partners for the double assignment!" 

"Are not," he responded as his smirk grew. "It's amazing what a few galleons can do, Granger." He shot her a wink, and her face flushed. 

"...what?!" She yelped. 

"Granger, your voice. We're in the library." He scoffed at her, hand on his chest in jest. 

Hermione waved her hand in annoyance, casting a non-verbal muffliato around them. She noticed Draco's eyebrows raise a fraction as the heaviness of the spell fell over them. "You can't just force someone to change partners!" 

"I didn't force her. I found something I wanted, made a suggestion, offered her payment, and she accepted. Standard practice, really." He shrugged, the grin making him look smug but beautiful. 

"You can't buy me!" She snapped. 

"It seems I can," his voice lowered, and the tone sent a shiver down her spine.

"Just leave. You don't want anything to do with me, anyway!" She could hear the accusation in her tone, but it was how she felt. He had left her alone in the library and disappeared. No contact, no letters.

"False," he drawled, and she noticed his cocky facade drop a touch, a hint of alarm in his tone. 

"You kissed me! And ran!" Hermione huffed. 

"You forget something a bit more important, Granger." He dropped his chair down onto all four legs, and as he fell forward, his scent assailed her. He smelled of sandalwood and orange, and fresh rain. He felt just as familiar as he had the night of their ritual, and a deep red grew up her neck as warmth pooled in her core. Draco kicked the chair out opposite him, and it startled her back into reality. 

Hermione shook her head in her anger, but he spoke before she could. "I didn't run… I'm a coward… I'm sorry." 

"You did! And then disappeared for days!" She crossed her arms over her chest and blew out a short snort. She could feel a bit of tension leaving her shoulders, which didn't make sense. Arguing with Draco had always made her tense. But right now, she could feel herself calming as they fought. 

"I didn't mean to run... I panicked." He looked timid, she noticed. 

"You… what?" She asked in confusion as her body fell into the seat across from him. 

"We were in public, Granger!" His voice rose. "If someone had seen us, you could have been hurt. So I left before things got…" he trailed off, but his eyes met hers. She could see the apology written in them. 

"You didn't show up for days!" She could feel tears starting to rise in her eyes as her anger turned more to fear. 

"I was staying away…" he muttered, looking down at the table. "Like Blaise suggest…"

"Do you know how worried I was?" She cut him off with a sniffle. His eyes locked to hers, and she wiped a lone tear away. "You… I thought something happened. You leave me here and disappear for days after what you told me that night? I… was worried." Her brow was furrowed, her gaze earnest and concerned.

"I'm sorry, Granger, but I do want to be near you..." he said quietly as he indicated the table and books between them.

She shut her eyes to stop herself from crying more. Non-stop scenarios had played through her mind since they last met. She had been so worried that he had been called back to that beast. That Voldemort had decided his mission was a failure and murdered him in cold blood. Or that he had wised up and recognized who he had been kissing and ruled she wasn't worthy. 

"We're partners, then?" She asked quietly as she opened her eyes to gaze at him again. 

"Partners," he nodded, and she saw his Adam's apple bounce as he swallowed thickly. "We need to talk, Granger."

"No. Right now, we need to begin our assignment. It is not my fault you invaded my study time with Tracey." She pushed a stack of books toward him as she cracked open a manuscript of ancient Arithmancy. She didn't want to talk. She didn't want to hear him say he wanted nothing to do with her. That he couldn't see her again. She had promised to help him, and she wouldn't let him push her away before they could find a way out.

"Granger," he growled with frustration on his features.

"No, Malfoy!" He wrinkled his nose as Hermione said his surname. "This project will decide our grade for two courses." She emphasized by raising two fingers at him. "We are here to study. You paid for this time, so use it!" She huffed as she started to read her book. A few moments passed, and she whispered, "We can talk… later" and he nodded as he opened a worn Runes text. 

She disappeared into her book then, scribbling ideas to pursue for their assignment. The longer they sat together, the more she thought she could feel the tension slowly leaving her body. 

She noticed Draco glance up at her a few times as they worked. "Yes?" She inquired without looking up as his gaze settled on her for the fifth time. 

"Nothing," he had a laugh in his tone. 

Their eyes met, and Hermione saw a smile on his face. "What, Malfoy?" she chuckled, a slight smile gracing her features.

"Do you feel yourself touch your hair?" He asked, and she felt her face turn up in puzzlement. 

"What are you on about?" 

"When you study, you run your hands through your hair. Do you know?" 

"I… no. I guess I don't realize I'm doing it…" she honestly hadn't known. She looked over at her hand and noticed a strand of her own hair under her nail. 

"Hmm," he nodded and went back to his readings. 

He knew that much about her? To see little things she did, even unknown to herself? She ran her fingers through her hair again as she pondered, smiling lightly as she twirled the ends in her fingers. 

They spent hours studying peacefully together, making fleeting comments about ideas for their project. The longer they sat together, the calmer Hermione felt. She could finally focus on her work, which had suffered as she had stewed in her anger, fear, and tension over the past few days. 

Draco sighed and stretched some time close to half til midnight, catching her attention. "Granger, let's call it a night." He spoke as he shut the volume he had been reading. Hermione noticed that the library had cleared out considerably. Save for a few Ravenclaws quietly still cramming, she and Draco were the only ones left. 

Hermione nodded as she shut her book and notes, and began gathering the texts to return to the stacks. She stood and stared down at the mountain of titles, stretching to prepare for the weight. To her surprise, Draco stood and scooped her pile effortlessly and headed for the stacks.

* * *

It was the least he could do, Draco thought. He'd disappeared for half a week, forced his way into being her partner, and seemed to have thoroughly annoyed and scared her. Returning their mass of books was the least he could genuinely do. 

Truth be told, he had spent a fortune to get Davis to let him be Hermione's partner. She had gone on and on about how she selected Granger because she knew she would pass. She only yielded when he offered to do her homework for a month, on top of 100 galleons. Tracey, to her credit, was a hell of a negotiator. Draco thought she'd make a good lawyer someday with the way she was able to twist words and scenarios to fit her needs. 

As he rounded the corner of the stacks, he heard Hermione shuffling behind him. Looking over his shoulder at her, he sent her a wink, and she smiled shyly at him. A simple smile that made his heart beat faster. 

He felt awful for making her feel so alone. So neglected. She had been worried about him, and he had just holed himself away like a coward. He mentally kicked himself for being such an idiot. He had someone so amazing, so willing to help him and protect him, snd he had made her believe she wasn't wanted.

Draco felt a tug on his shirt, pulling him from his thoughts. Stopping, Hermione stepped around him and grasped the top book from the massive stack he held. She sent it back to its resting place smoothly. Why he hadn't sent the books back with magic, he wasn't certain. But as she turned back to him with a shy smile, he was glad he hadn't.

Nodding her head toward the opposite end of the stack, she grabbed the second and third book and sent them away as she began walking. As she shuffled away from him, he took a moment to admire her figure. 

She had stripped her cloak some hours back with a criticism of the heat. She'd then discarded her sweater and tie in a huff that Draco had laughed at. The plain white shirt she wore now had a few buttons undone that exposed the long lines of her neck. It must be a frequent thing for her, he thought, to shed clothing as she trained her brain. He thought back to a few nights prior when he had walked into the library to see her in a similar state.

He saw her turn to reach for another book, but in his daydream, he had lingered behind. A blush grew on her cheeks as she regarded his gaze, and Draco smirked at her as he approached. He could smell the vanilla in her hair and the lavender that seemed to flow from her skin. She smelled delicious, and his face blushed at the thought of the last time he had been this close to her scent. 

The more books they put away, the closer into him she stood. When her fingers lingered on the last book he held at his side, he noticed they stood almost chest to chest. He hadn't realized they had gotten _this/ _close. But something felt so natural being so near her.__

__"Granger," he whispered as her eyes met his. Her eyes were inflamed, and her gaze shot right through him. They were in public, again. He shouldn't be this near her, and he knew it. He should take a step back and put distance between them, but he swore he felt a pressure push him to step in closer._ _

__As he closed the distance between them, she looked flushed, and her tongue darted slowly along her bottom lip. His heart hammered in his chest as her fingers moved from the book to his lower abdomen. He could feel the heat of her fingers as they moved up along his clothed chest._ _

__She sighed as her fingers made contact with the skin on his neck. She seemed to sag in relief as she clasped her fingers behind his neck. The stress he had been holding in his shoulders dissipated almost completely the moment her fingers grazed his skin. He rolled his neck against her palms with a sigh, a satisfied smile growing over his face. He felt her press her hands firmly in small, deliberate circles as she began massaging his neck._ _

__"Mmh…" he groaned, his eyes falling closed as her fingers kneaded the ache he had felt for days away._ _

__Draco felt an unexpected shock of pleasure course through his body as her lips met his throat. Clutching his shirt, she licked her way up the column of his neck and back down, and his cock twitched as it grew. He groaned out loud, and he dropped the book in his hands with a loud thud. When she bit his collarbone, he grabbed her face and crashed his lips to hers in a searing kissing._ _

__She responded, easing into him as she parted her lips for easier access. He turned them and backed her into the stacks as he bit her lip. She moaned into his mouth as their tongues danced passionately. He was as hard a rock, and he knew she could feel his organ pressed into her stomach._ _

__He pulled back slowly, trying and failing to end their kiss. Draco cared little that someone could walk around the stacks and see them, but he knew this was dangerous. But as she pulled him back in, all he could think of was the soft pillow of her lips as they met his. Her hands tugged at his hair as he pushed into her more, a moan filling the space between them._ _

__He tore away from her then, breath heavy as he pressed his forehead against hers. "Don't take this as me running, but we should go…" Draco looked around and saw no one in the area, but that didn't mean they were safe. He could feel the same disappointment in his gut that she held on her face._ _

__"I know…" she had a sad smile, and it broke his heart. All he wanted was to take her to bed, lay with her in his arms while they slept. But they would have to leave here again and act like they were just class partners. At least that was better than enemies. At least he had an excuse to be around her now._ _

__Draco cupped Hermione's cheek, and she leaned into his palm. He kissed her sweetly on the forehead and then met her lips for one last passionate kiss. Shelving the last book, they made their way to their abandoned belongings and packed quietly. Leaving the library together, they made for the stairs that would lead her away._ _

__"Tomorrow?" He asked as she took the first step toward her dorm room._ _

__She nodded and spoke softly. "Tomorrow. Good night, Draco."_ _

__"Good night, beautiful," he whispered, and her smile grew broader as she turned and ascended the stairs._ _


	4. No Show

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovies!
> 
> I hope you like this chapter. 
> 
> Some TW I want to mention: violence / torture
> 
> you can skip Hermione's second part mostly, which is where it happens, if you dont want to read it. You'll still get the drift of the chapter. 
> 
> as always: I don't own anything HP. 
> 
> comments and feedback appreciated!

The walk to the Gryffindor tower had felt like a dream. The chap on her lips was the only thing that told Hermione that the past few hours had been real. Her heart felt light, and she held no tension in her shoulders. The instant she had brushed Draco's collar, the tautness that had lingered in her body had vanished.

"Harry!" She greeted as she stepped through the portrait hole into an essentially abandoned common room. 

"Hey, 'Mione. Are you okay?!" Harry asked with an urgency in his voice. His characteristics were troubled, and it made Hermione apprehensive. 

Sitting down beside him on the couch, she drew her feet underneath herself. "I'm fine, Harry… why do you ask?"

"Well… I saw you on the map with Malfoy." Hermione noticed the blank parchment on the coffee table then and rolled her eyes. 

"Harry Jame Potter!" Her voice rose. "Were you spying on me?!"

"No, 'Mione! Of course not. I was just… I was watching Malfoy again. And I saw him go to the library and linger where you were. I thought he..." 

"You _assumed_ he came to hurt me? In the middle of the crowded library? With Madam Pince present?" She interrupted with a scathing expression on her face. 

"Well, yeah! He's a death…"

"Harry! How many times do I have to tell you!" Hermione shouted. 

"He's suspicious!" 

"Just because someone visited Borgin and Burke doesn't mean they are evil!" She slapped her hand on the back of the couch in frustration. She had been telling Harry all year to forget about Draco, even after he had been proven right. But she knew deep down what Draco remarked about his involvement with the terrorist cell was pure. He wanted no role in their activities, and thus she had kept pressing Harry to disregard him.

"When he didn't leave, I sort of… I went down to the library, and I saw you two." Harry had the decency to look sheepish.

Hermione felt as her heart fell into her stomach, panic rising to meet her lips. She was stunned silent for a moment as realization washed over her. Gods, Harry had seen her and Draco snogging. They had been in public! Draco had just apologized for trying to stop a scenario like this a few nights prior, and she had pounced on him the first opportunity she had gotten. She hadn't been to help herself; something kept forcing her closer. But fear and shame filtered through her at the thought. 

"Harry!" She screeched while attempting to hide the panic in her expression. 

"I panicked. I thought he was hurting you! I couldn't believe my eyes that you two were just studying. You still have my cloak, so I couldn't get close to hear anything... and I didn't stay long! I just... had to make sure you were safe, 'Mione!" 

Hermione sagged a bit in relief. Harry hadn't seen Draco shove her up against the stacks. But his obsession with Draco Malfoy was going to be a difficulty. 

"Of course, we were! We're partners on a project for Ancient Runes and Arithmancy! Harry, do you not notice a problem here?! You just spied on your best friend. You're obsessed!"

"He disappears from the map, 'Mione! I know he is up to something." Hermione seized the map from the table and smacked Harry over the head with it in a huff. He winced as the parchment connected with the crown of his head, a frequent occurrence between the pair.

"Don't you have more important things to think about than Draco?" She said calmly. Hermione took a deep breath, trying to soothe her nerves. Allowing the panic in her body to rule her emotions would get her in deeper trouble than anything else.

"Did you just call him Draco?" Harry's brow furrowed as he questioned her. She winced imperceptibly at the reality she hadn't recognized she'd called Draco by his given name. Ginny's warning flickered through her mind as she scolded herself. 

"It's his name, what does it matter? Harry, you're obsessed! You need to focus and stop following him!" 

"I know he's up to something, 'Mione. I just have to find out what." 

"No, you need to focus on your schoolwork. You need to focus on getting the memory and working with Dumbledore. Stressing over Malfoy is going to turn you mad. Promise me right now, Harry Potter, that you will stop patrolling this map." She waved the parchment in his face, and he recoiled slightly. She tried not to let a laugh escape at his response, knowing full well he believed she would swot him again. 

"Fine…" Harry muttered. 

"Fine, what?" 

"Fine, _mum_ , I'll stop watching him... but if _anything_ else like Katie happens again, I won't let up!" He was deadly serious, his eyes holding a hatred she had only seen when he spoke of Voldemort. Her heart broke somewhat at the idea of her best friend holding such disdain for someone so crucially misunderstood. 

Hermione thought of Draco's haunted expression as he had grieved about Katie. "Nothing like Katie will happen again…" She tried to promise, hoping Draco stuck to his word. Believing the misunderstood man she had joined to the earth alongside would fulfill his vow. 

"If it does, 'Mione, all bets are off." He sounded so serious that Hermione almost conceded. "I'm just happy you're safe… I'm gonna head to bed." He stood and held his arms out, and she granted him the embrace. He squeezed her tight as she spoke softly, "please be careful, Hermione… I know he's a snake." Harry kissed her head and seized the map from her as he left her solo in the common room. 

Sighing to herself, Hermione relaxed into the couch and drew her school bag into her lap. It was only midnight, and she knew she couldn't sleep if she tried. Drawing open her bag, she noticed a small, elegant leather journal on top of the stack. She knew instantly it wasn't one of her own. 

A letter stuck out from the top. She knew better than to handle this book. Ginny had discovered too well what it was like to be drawn in by a journal, only to be almost killed. But something in her gut assured Hermione this wasn't malicious. Unfolding the note, she saw elegant handwriting that was all too familiar, almost intimate. 

_Mother found this. I know you dislike earmarks, blame her._

She smiled gently at the second sentence and his awareness of her oddities. His mother found something in the Black family archives. She bit her lip as she opened the book to its first earmark. Flattening it with care, she began to read. It was as though she was reading word for word what had happened at her and Draco's rite, outside of an unconventional marriage. Each additional earmarked passage was the same. They all held the same experiences, the same tones of admiration. And they were all signed with a familiar chant, _Alligatus ego ad te animam meam._

Curiosity drew her to non-earmarked pages, and she skimmed other entries. They were much more concise, many just storing dates and casting successes or failures. The further she moved toward the modern century, the more clinical the records became. They held no feeling, no mentions of love or marriage, no true connection to the experience. The listings quickly died to merely the names of casters and the date, then all together ending after 1902, which held the final earmarked passage signed by Perseus and Josephine Black. 

Sitting the book down, she pondered what the text suggested. This ritual had been used as a marriage ceremony in the Black family, that much was evident. Over the centuries, it seemed the rite had fallen into obligation and then withered altogether. At least the record of castings had.

"Why are they so different…" she whispered out loud to no one except the flames in the fireplace. 

She had wasted hours in the restricted section four nights ago to no avail. There had been no other records that referenced the ritual; nothing that could teach her more about what power she could expect. She had resigned herself to more dark magic research, which had yielded little else than more potentially deadly spells with which her parents could be inflicted. 

A thought came to her mind, gradually. Maybe she had been seeking the wrong information. Hermione stood and made for her dorm, casting a wandless silencing charm on her feet as she walked in to retrieve Harry's cloak from under her pillow. Slipping out the door, and underneath the cloak, she headed back toward the dormant library, a new question to investigate. 

* * *

Draco made an effort the next morning, rising with the sun to prepare for his day. He showered before any of his roommates had opened their curtains, and noticed most of them gone as he exited the loo. Blaise's curtains had stayed closed, which seemed odd. Stuffing his Transfiguration and Herbology textbooks into his book, he headed out the door for breakfast with one last look back at his friend's bed. 

"Drakeyyy,'" he heard, and he had to admit Hermione was right. Pansy admittedly did sound like a Harpy. Grimacing as his foot stepped off the final stair into the common room, he nodded at her inappreciably. 

"Drakey, are you off to breakfast?" She cooed as he grew closer to the couches where she and her cronies assembled. 

"Yes," his tone was clipped. "Blaise been by?"

"I haven't seen him since dinner." At that, Draco nodded and made for the exit. He heard her stand, and shortly after, she laced her arm through his. "Let's go to breakfast." She smiled a sickening smile that made Draco grimace anew. He tried to pull his arm away, to shrug her off, but she had a vice-like grip. 

Resigning himself to his fate, she called for her friends to join, and they all made their way to the Great Hall. The walk up from the dungeons had managed to give him a headache, and he thought to himself that he should have stayed in bed. Pansy dragged on and on about useless nonsense, from clothes to the latest issue of Witch Weekly. Her inane prattling provided no substance, and he resented having to deal with her. 

As he swung the door wide that led to the Entrance Hall, he locked eyes with Hermione, who had just started to descend the marble staircase with Longbottom. He gave her a small smile, but her gaze fell to Pansy with a leer. She twisted her head away and continued the conversation with Longbottom. Draco frowned at her response at his presence; he hadn't done anything sinful. Or, nothing too offensive, at least. They had spent an exceptional night in the library together, so her position shouldn't be so harsh. 

Pansy attempted to draw him toward the Great Hall, but he didn't budge. He felt rooted to the spot, and all he could see was Hermione as she exited the staircase. Waving bye to Longbottom, she set her sights on him anew. Her eyes held a fire in them that hadn't been there previously as she marched straight for him, shouldering her bag a bit higher in a huff.

"Drakey, come on, I'm hungry," Pansy begged in a baby voice, and Draco tried to shrug her off a third time. 

"Let go, Pansy," he growled as Hermione neared them.

"Malfoy, we need to talk," Hermione said. Her voice was laced with anger, and she scoffed as Pansy tried to pull him away again. His heart hammered in his chest at her tone, trying to recollect what he may have done to offend her. 

"Go away, Granger. Drakey doesn't want your filth around," Pansy hummed as she dropped his arm and faced Hermione full on. 

"Did I address you, pug-face?" Hermione barked with a sneer on her face. Draco saw her straighten her spine, and wrinkle her nose in distaste as she met Pansy's eyes. 

"Watch who you talk to like that, mudblood," Pansy growled as she took a step toward Hermione. 

"I'll talk to trash however I wish," Hermione intoned, and Draco had to stifle a laugh. At her raised eyebrow, he knew she had heard. She wasn't irate at him, he discerned, and his heart relaxed to a pleasant hum. 

"As I said, _Malfoy._ We need to talk. About our project." Hermione, ignoring the daggers Pansy currently had instead of eyes, spoke directly to him again. 

"He. Doesn't. Want. You. Around." Pansy punctuated as she took another step toward Hermione. Pansy's face was becoming redder by the second, her chest puffing with anger, the more Hermione ignored her. 

"Give it a rest, Pansy. Bugger off," Draco told the irritating harpy who gave him a bewildered glance. 

Pansy's nostrils flared, and she turned with perturbation, shoving an unyielding shoulder into Hermione as she stormed off. "Watch your back, mudblood," she seethed as she made her way to the Great Hall, her friends trailing behind her with anxious expressions. 

"Charming…" Hermione huffed. "Come with me," she snarled as their eyes met. Draco's stomach flipped at the sound of her voice directed at him, but he nodded as she stalked off. 

She threw open a classroom door, and it slammed shut, lock clicking heavily into place as he walked through. Her hands were strong on his chest as she shoved him against the door. She crashed her mouth to his, their teeth hitting as she gave him a searing, possessive kiss. He stood stupidly for a moment pushed against the door before his mind jolted into action. Dumping his bag, he grasped her hips tightly and drew her forward, taking control of the kiss. 

He thought he could feel heat between them, their kiss burning into his soul. His headache had disappeared the moment their lips met, and the blood had rushed straight to his groin. Before he could truly take stock in the event, Hermione put her hands on his chest and shoved away from him, just out of reach.

"Jealousy is a beast," he smirked at her. 

"I am not jealous of that stupid harpy!" Hermione yelled as she ran her hands through her wild hair. 

"I couldn't tell," he laughed and she shot him a scathing look. 

"That bitch had her repugnant hands on my…" she stopped abruptly and snapped her mouth shut, her eyes going wide. Draco saw as a blush work its way into her already heated cheeks. 

"Your wha…" he began, but she cut him off promptly.

"We need to meet," she bit out quietly. 

"We're meeting now," he waved his hand around the empty room they stood in. 

"No, somewhere private." He hiked an eyebrow at her and she huffed. “More private,” her eyes fell back to his and held his gaze. "Where do you go? To do your mission?" She asked quietly, and he felt nausea work it's way into his gut. 

He hadn't genuinely thought about his mission since the night he had cried into her middle over it. He had been so preoccupied over thinking about their ritual he hadn't even thought about his impossible task. Nausea worked its way through his body, followed closely by anger. Anger at her for bringing it up. Anger at himself for being in the position. Anger at his father for his failures and his emphatic need to please a raving mad-man. 

"What?" He asked quietly, but he heard the anger in his voice. 

"Where do you go when you're working on your mission?" She repeated again, her eyes holding a determination. 

"Why does it matter?" He heard himself say, a notch more of anger coming across in his tone.

She frowned, "it just does! Where?" she shouted with a stern look of unease on her face. 

"Not until you tell me why," he bit back. She groaned and ran a hand down her face as she took a deep breath. "Granger, what's wrong?" 

She sighed and hung her shoulders. "Harry's got this map… it shows where everyone is in the castle. He… he spied on us last night." 

"Of course, Harry bloody Potter has a soddening magical stalking device!" He grunted, but then fear hit his gut. "Wait, did he…?" 

"Just saw us studying... but it was too close." 

"No shit, Granger!" He barked at her, and she flinched.

"Don't yell at me! I didn't tell him to! I told him to stop watching you!" 

"Me?! He's been watching _me?!_ " Draco booted his school bag out of frustration. "Why does he always have to ruin things? Why can't he leave well enough alone!"

"He thinks you're a death eater…" she whispered, and he sagged a bit, the anger replacing itself with shame almost immediately. "I told him you weren't. And that he needed to stop watching you. But… it's still risky. Where do you…" 

"The mission, Granger, I know. But why?"

"Apparently, you disappear from the map often. I just assumed it was…" she trailed off. 

"The Room of Requirement," he answered with a sad tone in his sound. 

"The Room of Requirement," she echoed, and he nodded. 

"Then meet me there tonight after rounds. 10'o'clock?" She asked as she took a small step toward him. 

"Sure." He leaned forward and grabbed her wrist then, pulling her into his chest. Running a soft finger under her chin, he lifted it and placed a chaste kiss on her lips. Her eyes were closed, and lips parted when he pulled away, and he thought she was the most beautiful in the moments. 

"You should work on that jealousy, Granger," he joked as he released her. 

"I am not jealous of that bint!" She growled. 

He laughed and shouldered his bag. "I don't believe you." He pulled her in for one last slow kiss. Something he could cherish for the remainder of the day. She sighed as their lips separated, a smile ghosting across her face. "Ask the room for a quiet place to meet," he told her as he unfastened the classroom door, nodding to her as he disappeared for breakfast. 

* * *

Hermione spotted Ginny in the Great Hall that night at dinner. Her red-headed friend had been pretty elusive throughout the day. Hermione hadn't seen her at breakfast and hadn't noticed her in the halls, either. Taking a seat beside her friend, Hermione began filling her dish with food from the banquet.

"Hey, 'Mione," her best girlfriend greeted her with a broad smile. 

"You seem happy," Hermione remarked as she pushed the food around her plate.

"You free after dinner?" Ginny beamed ear to ear, and Hermione raised an eyebrow at her. 

"Yeah, until rounds. Everything okay?" She questioned. 

Her friend nodded, the grin still stuck to her face. "Yeah, brilliant!" She sang. 

Hermione pulled the book she had sprung from the library last night as Harry and Neville joined her and Ginny. Neville gave Hermione a bright smile as he served himself food, which she echoed. Neville had truly begun to shine this year and seemed to excel particularly well in Herbology. He had a bright smile on his face every Wednesday night at dinner, after spending hours with Professor Sprout in the greenhouses throughout the day. 

Hermione fell deep into her book as Neville turned the conversation to Venomous Tentacula and Asphodel. Last night she had researched marriage rituals, and her head still reeled from the information the texts had produced. She had barely been able to focus in class today, thinking about the possibilities of her and Draco. It was much deeper than a marriage. It was on a deeper level spiritually, tying them together for life.

When Seamus and Dean joined them, pulling Neville and Harry's attention, Ginny elbowed Hermione lightly pulling her from her text. "Wanna go for a walk?" She whispered as she turned her body entirely away from Dean, who had a longing look on his face as he watched her.

"Sure, Gin. Let's go." Hermione agreed and placed her napkin on the table as she rose. 

It took Ginny all of 2 doorways before she pushed Hermione into an empty classroom and shut the door, silencing the room with her wand. As she rounded to face Hermione, her grin grew a mile wide. 

"I slept with Blaise!" She blurted, and Hermione almost choked on her own spit.

"What? When? How?" Hermione fumbled over her words as her mind went blank. 

"I should think you know how," Ginny chortled, and Hermione rolled her eyes. "Last night. Dean and I had gotten into that row," she started. 

"I hadn't seen you since. But it sounds like you are just fine…" Hermione chuckled. 

"More than." Ginny's smile hadn't faded. "I was out by the Black Lake around sunset, and Blaise came up and sat with me. We barely spoke. He held my hand for a bit." 

"So you slept with him?" Hermione questioned with a laugh as she grasped her friend's hand. "Hand holding drops your knickers, Gin?" Hermione mocked lightheartedly. 

"No! Well, I mean, yeah, but he asked me to walk the ground with him. We talked about all kinds of things. He's fascinating…" she paused and seemed to be lost in thought. 

"And…" Hermione prodded her best gal pal. 

"He told me he's fancied me for a while, and couldn't stop thinking about our snogging session. Then he kissed me, and I mean really kissed me." Ginny made some expressive hand movements to emphasize her point, and it was nearly lude. Hermione couldn't help but laugh. 

"It sort of just happened after that." Ginny grinned again, ear to ear. 

"Based on how happy you are, it was… good?" 

"I don't know," Ginny shrugged. "I don't have anything to compare it to. But I certainly had fun." 

"Gin…" Hermione started. 

"Not right now." Ginny stopped her. "We can talk about how awful the decision was later. When we talk about the same for you," Ginny leveled her with a stare. 

"Just... what about Harry?" Hermione questioned. 

"I could ask you the same about Ron..."

"It's different and you know it, Gin," Hermione said. 

Ginny sighed then and closed her eyes. "I know... I just... I just can't sit around and hope one day he'll see me as an adult. Or not Ron's little sister. We talked at the end of summer... he said he wouldn't date me. That he couldn't date me. So I'm not going to sit around and hope he does." Ginny took a deep breath and met Hermione's eyes. She held a sadness there, and Hermione knew Ginny's heart was surely broken. She had adored Harry, but Harry was too noble to put her in danger. 

Hermione put an arm around Ginny's shoulders and pulled her in. "Sorry, Gin," she apologized. "Tell me about Zabini?" Ginny wiped a single tear away and nodded as she took a deep breath. 

Hermione sat and listened to her friend's tale. It sounded like Blaise had been charming to her, even nervous. They talked a while about Ginny's experience, but the conversation soon devolved into girlish chatter. Hermione didn't care, though. It was nice to take a break from the world around her to just be a teenager for a moment. 

"I've got rounds soon, Gin," Hermione said about an hour later. 

"Miss Prefect, can't skip rounds," she quipped as she bumped Hermione's shoulder. 

"Gin… just be careful. Like you told me." Hermione said with care in her voice. She recognized Ginny couldn't sit idly waiting for Harry ceaselessly, but she needed to be clever in her decisions outside of him. 

Her friend nodded with an understanding smile and gave Hermione a hug in parting. Hermione sighed a moment and doubled back toward the entrance hall to wait for her rounds partner, Lisa Turpin. The Ravenclaw girl was nice enough, Hermione thought, and their rounds so far this year had been fine. They usually chatted about lectures from the day or books they had read. Hermione was appreciative she didn't have to waste her rounds with someone who only desired to talk Quidditch. 

As half-past eight rolled around without a sign of her partner, Hermione began to fret. Lisa had never been late, let alone 30 minutes overdue. Checking the Great Hall, just in case, she didn't see her partner anywhere. Resigning herself to a solo round, she thought Lisa may have told someone she was unable to walk rounds; or there was a note waiting for Hermione in Gryffindor tower, which she hadn't been back to yet today. Sighing, she began her solitary rounds. 

Hermione ascended the staircase toward the 2nd floor, her assigned duty for the night, as her mind roamed. The halls were tranquil; some students milled about, but with nothing noteworthy on this floor, the halls echoed the sound of her steps in emptiness. She both hated and appreciated the nights she had duty here. It gave her time to think, but it also made the night move slower. 

Hermione paced the halls slowly, trying to bid her time until making her way to the 7th floor. She stepped past the bathroom door and laughed somewhat to herself. She thought back on brewing polyjuice potion and turning herself into a cat. Looking back, it had been a bit funny, however, embarrassing it may have been at the time. She had brewed a potion that stumped some adults, and she felt a surge of pride at her remembrance. 

As she shifted to resume patrolling the empty corridors, something unyielding connected with her cheek, throwing her off stability, making her drop her wand. Surprised by the pain, she sensed herself being shoved into the bathroom she had just fawned over. Cracking her eyes as she rubbed her jaws, a revolting pug-nose filled her vision. 

"Parkinson," Hermione growled. She noticed Pansy wasn't alone, but her company seemed uncertain of their malicious leader's efforts. 

"Don't speak my name, filth," Pansy said as she twirled Hermione's wand in her hand. 

"Give me my wand, pug-face." Hermione's voice was venomous for a good reason. 

What happened next happened so fast, Hermione hardly realized. Pansy's nostrils flared as she shot a body binding curse at Hermione, who went stiff as fear rose inside her. Hermione saw the darkness grow across Pansy's face as she fell to the floor, unable to move. She attempted to speak, to cast a counter-course to unbind herself, but her hands and lips wouldn't budge. She stared up at Pansy and noticed her face decorated with a wicked grin. 

Pansy cackled, and her friends grimaced. Hermione tried to use her eyes to plead with Pansy's cronies for mercy, for humanity, but they all glanced away. "I'm going to teach you a lesson, mudblood. _Crucio,_ " Pansy spat with an upturn of her wand, and it felt like Hermione's insides were being torn out and set on fire. She attempted to scream in pain, but her body was rigid and unresponsive. The curse flowed through her, and even her fingernails felt like they were being seared with flame. Her eyes felt like they were bludging, she thought she could feel the ends of her hair shrivel in pain. Every inch of her skin felt like acid was slowly being dripped upon it.

Pansy relented with a wicked smile on her face that Hermione observed through the tears that sobbed from her eyes. "You don't know your place, mudblood. _You're trash._ " Pansy spat as she thrust her foot deeply into Hermione's face. Hermione almost retched as she heard and felt her nose fracture. She could taste the blood as it seeped into her mouth, and she assumed her lip was also smashed.

"Stupid mudblood. You think you can talk to _him?_ " Pointing her wand at Hermione again, Pansy spat a heated _Curico_ , and her nerves set aflame anew. It was awful pain. Orders of magnitude worse than what she had experienced after being hit with Dolohov's curse in the Ministry. Her body wanted so badly to writhe and coil in on itself, but the petrification only served to make her pain worse. The burning died momentarily as Pansy cackled again. "Brightest witch of age, my arse," Pansy regaled in triumph.

Pansy approached again and gave Hermione a plethora of swift kicks to the stomach. She couldn't even groan at the impact. She felt the blood as it filled her mouth and wanted to retch at the taste. Bending down face to face, Pansy met Hermione's eyes with an ardent gaze. 

"Maybe if you weren't so pretty, he'd finally forget about you…" she muttered as she pulled her wand along Hermione's arm. "Diffindo," Pansy whispered, and Hermione felt as the skin burst down her forearm, a searing pain arising as Pansy worked her white-hot wand along the expanse of her skin. Her tears leaked heavily from her eyes as Pansy ran the wand along her clothed stomach, the scar of her previous curse splitting in agonizing pain as the threads of her shirt ripped with it. She lost track of the places Pansy punctured her skin, the pain all flowing together as she faded in and out of awareness. 

"Not yet, mudblood. You're not allowed to pass out." Pansy snarled. Hermione felt Pansy's hand as it seized her face, yanking it roughly upward. Pansy moved her wand over her face, and all Hermione could do was whimper. She felt the pain rather than heard the whispered spell as Pansy divided the skin of her cheek. The wand was drawn up and over her eye, cutting her eyelid in half as it made its way to her hairline. Bloodsoaked tears streamed down Hermione's face as she bawled in agony. It was the single thing her body would permit her at this moment, and she loathed herself for it. So much for a powerful ritual if it couldn't even save her from an ambush in an abandoned bathroom. 

"Pansy! That's _enough_!" 

Hermione barely heard one of the other girl's scream. Her head hit the floor with a disgusting crack as Pansy released her. The last thing she saw before she passed out was Pansy's wicked grin as she spat on her face.

* * *

Draco paced back and forth in front of the fire the Room had conjured for him. Hermione was 36 minutes late, and he was livid. She had called this meeting. How dare she not show up after pulling him away, yelling at him, and then forcing this meeting. He stared down at the paperwork in front of him in irritation. He had actually been doing homework waiting for her. He swiped at the books and papers, and they fell from the table in a heap. His face arms hurt, and he assumed it was due to the tension he could feel building in his neck. The longer he sat waiting for her, the more pain he seemed to feel. It wasn't intense pain, but his stomach had begun to hurt, his arm tingled, and his eye kept twitching.

He waited another five minutes before he gathered his things, and, with a slam of the Room of Requirement's door behind him, headed back to the dungeons. His feet hurt with how hard he stomped down the stairs, his head pounding in agitation. He sneered as he thought about Hermione's absence, and blamed her for the pain his unrest had produced. 

"Move," he growled at a few second-years who had taken up residence on the couch by the fireplace. They scampered, fearful of his tone, and he took his seat. Stretching his neck, he tried to clear away some of the pain, but it wouldn't recede. 

"Drakeyyy, where have you been?" Pansy cooed as she sat next to him in front of the fireplace, her friends joining. Pansy laced their arms together, and Draco felt a sickness in his stomach at her closeness. All of the other sixth year girls seemed defeated. Some refused to make eye contact with him, and others simply sat and gazed into the fire with pensiveness on their faces.

"I was waiting for Granger. She never showed. So much for a passing grade," he growled, trying to remove Pansy, but she clung tighter. He hated to reduce Hermione to a tool for a passing grade, but that's all he could do. Saying anything more could put them both in danger. 

"Mudbloods can't be counted on," Pansy cackled, and Draco noticed her friend's uncomfortable glances as their ringleader spoke. "Only good for target practice, Drakey, you know that." Her face held a devilish grin, and it instantly disturbed him. 

Pansy tried to engage her friends in conversation, but he noticed how stilted it seemed. He thought then of Hermione. She was never late. She never blew off schoolwork in favor of frivolities, and he assumed she would hold the same pattern for their meeting. He felt his heart fall into his stomach as he pieced the puzzle together. Shrugging Pansy off violently, he spun on her with a dangerous expression. 

"What did you do, Parkinson?" He said with a fiery tone. 

"What does it matter?" She scoffed as she collected herself. 

"Parkinson," he growled as he grabbed her face roughly. Her eyes held fear in them, and it only made him more enraged. "I asked: _what did you do?_ " He was nearly snarling. 

"Why do you care so much about that mudblood!" She shouted, trying to tug her face from his hold. "She's distracting you! You've got a mission, Draco!" Draco noticed her wince in pain as his grip tightened on her jaw, his nails curling into her skin. He pushed her back with a violent shove and stood from the couch. 

He knew deep in his gut that Pansy had done something awful. He knew she held evil in her that matched many of the prominent death eaters. It was part of the reason he despised her so much. Her capacity for malevolence was disgusting, and he hated himself for ever having dated someone like her. Draco tried to move swiftly to the common room door, but he felt as someone grabbed his arm from behind. 

"Draco! Stop!" Pansy cried as she tried to halt his movements. 

He hadn't meant to do it, but the next thing he saw was Pansy sailing across the room, her head smacking the wall with a crack as the common room inhabitants gasped. Magic had manifested itself through his anger, and he justly felt no remorse as he saw Pansy slump to the ground. He didn't worry if he had just killed her, and the thought made him a bit sick. But he noticed her move, her eyes flutter open, and it made him madder at the fact that he had failed. 

Stalking over to her, he seized her neck in a vice hold and whispered so that only she could hear, "where is she?" 

Pansy gagged, but an evil grin grew across her face, "hopefully… dead," she choked out as she met Draco's grimace with a determined expression. 

"If she's dead, I'll make sure you are, too," Draco growled, releasing her with a shove back into the stone wall. He noticed the pained look on her face as she gasped for air, but he cared little. 

Rounding on the other sixth year Slytherin girls, he shouted, "where is she?!" The fire roared to life further, its flames escaping the hearth and burning the tapestries around the outside. Younger students ran from the room in shrieks, but Draco only had attention for the sixth year girls. 

They all hand pained expressions on their features. Most of the girls looked shocked, stunned by the scene in front of them. Millicent Bulstrode was crying, her face distorted in fear. Daphne Greengrass stood and shook her head, her mouth fell open, but no words came out. She pointed at her throat with a distressed expression, and Draco knew instantly he'd never get an answer out of Pansy's gaggle of sycophants. 

Anger and panic filled his nerves as he tore through the common room door. He couldn't breathe. His hands were riddled with sweat, and he had tears in his eyes. He felt paralyzed, his chest was tight, and he couldn't move. He hated himself for being so angry at her absence when she had clearly been in trouble. His body still hurt, and his head pounded. Unable to think clearly, he moved toward the only thing that he could imagine would help. 

Pounding on his godfather's door loudly, he shouted, "Uncle Sev! Uncle Sev!" 

Severus swung the door open with an irritated look on his face. "What do you want?" 

"She's hurt!" Draco yelled, not caring if anyone heard. 

Severus pulled him up by the collar and into his chamber. "Calm yourself. I assume you mean Miss Granger?" 

"I can't calm myself! Yes, Hermione! Pansy hurt her. I don't know where she is!"

"And instead of looking for her, you came here?" Severus asked with a raised eyebrow. 

Draco paused at his godfather's words. "I… I didn't know who else to go to."

"Did you possibly think of her friends?" his godfather asked in a clipped tone. "I do believe the boy wonder has a map."

"Of course!" Draco shouted as he ran for the door, but Severus called his name to halt him. 

"What is your plan, Draco?"

"I'm going to get the map! I'm going to find her!"

"And just exactly how are you going to convince him to give you this map that you aren't supposed to know he has? Use your head, boy! You're not this dense. Calm yourself. Use your brain." Severus looked annoyed, but Draco could see the concern in his eyes. Whether it was for himself or Hermione, he didn't know. 

"I don't know! She's in danger!" Draco cried in fear. 

"And so are you, boy!" his godfather responded with anger in his voice. 

"I don't care about me! She can't die…" Draco felt like the air had been sucked out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe. Tears filled the corners of his eye, and he pleaded with whatever deity that would listen to make sure Hermione wouldn't die tonight. "She can't die... I was supposed to meet her… I didn't protect her..." he echoed again as he began to cry.

"You would know if she died," his godfather spoke, and Draco shot him a confused glare. "Calm yourself. You need to think clearly if you want to save her. You were to meet?" 

Draco simply nodded, taking a deep, calming breath. "Then tell the boy she didn't show," his godfather said simply.

"Of course…" 

"Be careful, Draco. Your mother will annihilate me if you kill yourself." 

Draco nodded and bid his godfather thanks as he swept from his chamber. He took stairs two at a time as he raced to the 7th floor, hoping on hope that Potter was safely tucked away in his tower. It pained him a little in knowing he was relying on Potter, yet again, for salvation, but the boy who lived was the best option. 

Draco beat on the Gryffindor portrait hole, wishing someone was on the other side. It took a moment, but then a burst of red hair appeared as the door flung open. 

"What the fuck, Malfoy?" The Weasel King. Of course, it had to be the bloody weasel. 

Draco plastered a sneer on his face, his standard response when dealing with the giant ginger idiot. "Where is Granger?" Draco spat the question, but the fear in him rose again, thinking of Hermione laying dead somewhere in the castle.

"Why the fuck do you care?" Ron spat. "Here to torture her in broad view?"

"No!" Draco shouted in his panic. He heard himself, but couldn't stop the anger and fear as it raced out of his mouth. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "She was to meet me after rounds so we could work on our assignment."

"Yeah, right. Like you would ever stoop so low as to partner with a, what do you call her? A mud…" Draco grabbed Ron's sweater as anger boiled inside him. How dare this idiot refer to his _best friend_ as such a name. 

"Let him go, Malfoy!" It was Potter. He had joined the two at the portrait hole after the yelling. Draco dropped Ron's sweater and sneered at him. "Ron, go sit down," Harry instructed, and with a lewd gesture toward Draco, Ron left Harry in the doorway.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry asked in a clipped tone. 

"Where is Hermione?" he asked, and Potter gave him an odd expression.

"I haven't seen Hermione," Harry dragged her name out, and Draco realized his mistake, "since dinner."

"Well, she was supposed to meet me for our assignment. Tell her she owes me an hour of my life back whenever she gets here." Draco just hoped it would be enough to send Harry into question. With a sneer, Draco turned and headed for the stairs, the portrait hole closing behind him. 

It took 10 minutes for the portrait hole to burst open with Potter running through. Draco observed from a shaded corner as Harry sped past, a worried expression on his face. He had a piece of parchment in his hand that Draco could only assume was the alleged map. He waited until Potter had gotten far enough away to follow after him. He shouldn't have waited, he knew it was dangerous. But he had to make sure Potter had unquestionably taken the bait. 

Harry darted down a corridor on the 2nd level, and into what looked like the girl's bathroom. When he emerged, Draco's heart stopped. In Harry's arms was a bloodied and unconscious Hermione. Blood ran down her face from her eyes, he could see the bone of her arm, her stomach was split open. He only saw her briefly as Potter ran by him toward the stairs, tears filling his eyes. Dread filled his gut at the fleeting sight of his wife bruised, bloodied, and potentially dead as Harry ascended the stairs with her prone form. 


	5. The Infirmary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry. im sorry. don't hate me. but it fits the story so well...
> 
> no ownership of Harry Potter here.
> 
> also, there are some mentions to Hermione's tourture from the last chapter but not too graphic.
> 
> Edit to add: I've had a few comments say that Hermione being tortured is a plot hole. But I will counter that by saying it is less than a week since their ritual, and she hasn't even tried to use her new power. Hasn't trained it at all. And no, it doesn't just automatically make she and Draco OP. I'm not writing these two as immaculate world saving over-powered beings. They are teenagers, still in school, who have hardly even learned non-verbal magic. 
> 
> when I rewrite this story, I will fill that "plot hole" but I just wanted to address it here.

Groaning to herself as she flirted with consciousness, Hermione felt pain radiating throughout her body. Panic built in her as recollection set in as she sought to move, her arm raising imperceptibly as fear seized her stomach. The last she remembered, she was lying on the lavatory floor, pleading deities she didn't believe in to spare her life. To allow her to wake from the dreadful dream she deemed she was experiencing. 

"'Mione, don't move, don't move," Ginny's voice sounded and Hermione picked up the distraught nature in her friend's tone. 

"G…" was all she could summon as she started to cry. As tears fell from her eyes, her left burned in searing pain. Her mind relived the white-hot wand being trailed over it. Tears fell as her consciousness conjured visions of her eyelid cleaving open. 

"Shh, 'Mione, you're okay. Get Pomfrey," Ginny commanded. The sound of chair feet skidding hastily across the floor reverberated in her ears. Her chamber's curtains waved moments after as the visitor disappeared. She felt Ginny run a hand along her tangled hair as she shushed her. "It's okay… shh…" 

She registered her curtain rustle again, and a flurry of motion swarmed her heightened senses. Ginny's hand dropped from her head and was replaced with two others. 

"Ms. Granger, please keep your eyes closed," Madam Pomfrey pleaded. "Take this," Hermione heard as a glass vial was pushed to her lips. Opening insignificantly, Hermione felt the foul liquid flow down her throat, and she craved to retch. "You two, go get the Headmaster, please. She'll be fine here."

"'Mione, I'll be right back, I promise," Ginny said, her voice loaded with tears. 

Hermione welcomed the warm tingle as the potion circulated within her veins. Gradually the pain subsided, her physique growing more compliant to her wishes. She attempted to lift her left arm, but Madam Pomfrey interrupted her movement. 

"Don't move, dear," the Healer said with care in her tone. "A bit more time," she continued. Several seconds ticked by, and Hermione felt her body fall into lameness, unable to process pain or movement. "Dear, can you open your right eye?" 

Hermione cracked her right eye open to see Madam Pomfrey hovering over her, a worried expression on her features. Her vision was hazy, clouded from tears and repose.

"Good, dear, very good," the Healer pronounced as Hermione's vision slowly shifted more lucid. "I'm going to check your other eye, dear, please hold very still." 

Hermione groaned, wanting to roll her eyes at the instruction. Of course, she would remain still; she had swallowed a potion that rendered most of her body useless. She felt her head lift gently as the Healer discarded the bandages that had been holding her left eye shut. 

"The skin has reattached, but is still quite swollen," Pomfrey remarked. Hermione tried to will herself to panic again, but her body didn't yield. She couldn't see any light from her left side, and her mind raced with the implication. She may have lost her eye, handicapping her should she be forced to defend herself in battle.

"Is...it gone?" She gasped, trying to permit the tears to fall, but nothing came. 

"No, dear, you still have your eye. But it will take time to heal. As with the rest of your injuries." 

Relief flooded her at the tone of positivity toward her sight. Madam Pomfrey dabbed a touch of salve on her eye before speaking again. 

"Let's sit you up, dear, and I'll rebandage your eye." Hermione felt her body elevated then pushed back into a stack of pillows, into which her lame frame sank in a slump. She registered her head move back and forth as gauzes wrapped themselves about her, drawing snuggly to her face. 

"Ms. Granger," a calming sound vocalized as her curtains drifted open, allowing more light through as the Headmaster entered. He was accompanied by Professor Snape, who wore a concerned expression on his features. "I am glad you are awake," the Headmaster spoke softly, as he generally did, and it nearly soothed her.

"Thank you, sir," she returned. 

"Do not thank me, dear. You should praise your friends. Harry discovered you just in time, I would say. You are fortunate to have them nearby." 

Hermione wanted to cry again, to nod, but her body was virtually motionless. 

"It… it was Pansy," she murmured, her mind celebrating the potion for not allowing her to cry.

"We are aware, Ms. Granger." It was Snape whose monotone voice saturated the air. "I am here on behalf of Slytherin House to apologize for my student's behavior." 

"You may be pleased to know Ms. Parksinson is at the Ministry awaiting prosecution," Dumbledore declaimed, but she felt no calmer.

"It will just make it harder for me… her friends…" Hermione started, but Snape cut in. 

"Were under unbreakable vows," he spoke. "Badly cast vows that I easily removed." Hermione knew she was shocked, regardless of if her features registered it. Pansy had clearly mapped her torture somewhat meticulously. 

"It seems as though Ms. Parksinson has been a danger to students other than yourself, Ms. Granger. So it is with the safety of the school in mind that we expelled her," Dumbledore added. "It will help the matter should you choose to present your memories of the incident." 

"I… I will," she choked out. 

"Excellent, Ms. Granger," Dumbledore replied. "I understand Ms. Weasley would relish a chance to see you again, so we will take our leave."

"Slytherin House apologizes, repeatedly, Ms. Granger. We are all," Snape extended the word with a raise of his eyebrow and a serious gaze, "glad you are alive." Hermione knew of whom he was referring. The two professors and the Healer left her then, replaced by a solemn-looking Ginny. 

"'Mione… Merlin, I'm glad you're awake." Ginny had obviously been crying. Hermione didn't need both eyes to tell her. Her friend's skin was blotched red, and her eyes were rimmed black with a lack of sleep. "Harry was here, he hadn't left your side. But… he started to stink," Ginny giggled out through her tears as she took her seat. "I told him to go shower and rest. He's going to be mad he wasn't here." 

"Who was here with you then?" Hermione questioned.

"Oh... Blaise. He came with me… I… couldn't see you just lying there alone again." 

"I'm glad you have him then, Gin," Hermione said, attempting to give a soft smile, entirely unsure if her facial muscles actually moved. "How long have I… been out?" 

"6 days," Ginny said firmly. "'Mione, I'm so sorry I didn't stay with you. I just left and…" 

"Ginny, this wasn't your fault," Hermione replied, and a tear rolled down Ginny's cheek.

"Pansy Imperius'd Lisa. They found her wandering around the Forbidden Forest without shoes the day after. It's a wonder she didn't…" Ginny trailed off. 

"I'm glad she's okay…" 

"She's been by a few times. She feels awful, too."

"It wasn't her fault, either." 

"We knew, we just…" 

"I know, Gin. If I could move or feel my arm, I'd hold your hand," Hermione offered to lighten the mood, and it appeared to work. Ginny clasped her hand and gave it a tight squeeze, which Hermione could hardly feel. 

"I should thank Harry…" Hermione muttered. 

"Malfoy," Ginny said resolutely.

"Draco? What about him?" Hermione's heart pounded in her chest at the mention of Draco, her mind falling to their missed meeting. 

"If it wasn't for him, Harry wouldn't have found you." 

"I don't…" 

"He came pounding on the portrait hole that night. Spouting off about how you ditched him, and you owed him. Harry immediately went to get the map. When you didn't leave the loo for a while, he went and found you. Mal… Draco saved your life." 

"Oh…" was all she could muster, her head floating with thoughts of the tale. 

"Ms. Weasley," Madam Pomfrey spoke as she held open Hermione's curtains. "Ms. Granger needs her rest. You should head back to your dormitory." 

Ginny nodded as the Healer exited. "I'm so happy you're awake, 'Mione," she declared as she clutched Hermione's hand tenderly one last time.

"Gin, tell Harry…" 

"Thanks... I will. He'll be here tomorrow," Ginny finished for her as she left. 

Madam Pomfrey helped Hermione eat a small meal of soup and bread to help settle her stomach, then placed Hermione on her back. Declining the sleeping potion, Hermione laid awake for the next hour as she thought back to Pansy's wicked grin, slipping into a restless slumber.

* * *

"Ain't been ta' the Room in 'while, Malfoy," Crabbe sneered from his 4-poster at Draco. "Pussyin' out like daddy did?" He let out a hideous laugh as he shoved a pie into his mouth. 

"Shove off, fool," Draco retorted, turning the page of the book he read, lying stiffly on his bed. Tension floating through his neck made him tense, annoyed and easily irritated. He hadn't been able to relax since Hermione's torture nearly a week prior. He hadn't been able to sleep. He had barely eaten. 

"Wan' to make daddy proud, don't ya?" Crabbe ridiculed with a leer. "Or are ya just as pathetic as 'e is?" Crumbs tumbled endlessly from his mouth, making his presence much less threatening.

"Get bent, Crabbe. Your dad isn't even on the Dark Lord's radar," Draco intoned in a bored voice. "You act as though you mean something. But he would murder you without a second thought. Actually, your pathetic father would likely do it for him if the Dark Lord said he could kiss his foot after."

Crabbe rose from his bed, clumsily, and stalked toward Draco's 4-poster in a fit. Draco, reclining a bit more into his bed, crossed his arms behind his head and closed his eyes. Crabbe wasn't a threat, regardless of how large, or round, he may be. He had been passed over by Voldemort to take the mark due to his incompetence. He had cowarded at the feet of the Dark Lord, begging for an opportunity, and Voldemort had spat in his face as he cackled. 

"Watch 'yer mouth, Malfoy," Crabbe reverberated through clenched teeth, redness growing further into his face. 

At that moment, Blaise thrust open the dormitory door, a bored look on his face, his eyebrow raised. "Oi, alright in here?" he uttered as he paced toward his bunk, flinging down his school bag with finesse. "Get lost, you two," Blaise spoke with a conclusive tone, clearly dismissing the two larger boys. 

"Right, so you tossers can jerk each other off," Crabbe sneered anew as he stomped toward the door.

"At least someone will touch our pricks," Draco shrugged, and Blaise barked a laugh. 

Crabbe huffed and ripped free the door, storming out with a lewd gesture toward the remaining boys in the room. Goyle sighed as he sat down the sweets he had been eating, trying his hardest not to participate. 

"You don't have to follow him, mate," Draco said with a solemn tone. He realized more and more that Goyle had no stake in this game. That he simply followed Crabbe, standing on the sidelines until Crabbe needed to be pulled away. 

"I don't want him hurt…" Goyle said quietly with a longing look on his face as he walked from the dorm, closing the door softly behind him. 

"She's awake," Blaise drawled in the emptiness of the space taking Draco by surprise.

"What?" Draco's breath hung in his throat, his sights locking to Blaise in an instant.

"I was there earlier with Ginny when she woke up." All Draco could do was nod as he tried to process that his spouse was finally awake. "She just stopped by and told me to give you this." Blaise pulled a ratty-looking cloak from his bag and tossed it onto Draco's stomach. 

Shock coursed through him as he held the ratty cloak upward, inspecting it. It was the same one he had thrown over Potter on the train. The one he and Hermione had shared on their walk back to the castle. Where they had shared a longing kiss of desperation that night. 

"...she knows?" Draco breathed as he rose from his bed nimbly. 

"Yeah, I think so, mate. Clearly not angry over it," Blaise said as he motioned to the cloak swaying from Draco's hand.

"Thank her for me," Draco rushed out as his mind jolted into gear. He hurried through the loo and freshened the day away, pausing only to take a calming breath. As he stepped to grab his wand from his side table, he noticed the black jewelry box sitting atop it. 

His godfather had given him a rather strict talking to the day after Hermione's torture when he learned Draco hadn't presented her with the necklace. Apparently, it possessed protective enchantments, meant to lessen or nullify any malicious intent set upon the wearer. Draco had sensed guilt in himself, thinking of this as an additional means by which he had neglected his wife. The woman he was supposed to shield throughout their lifetimes. Another pang of guilt sat heavily on his conscious as he thought of his mother no longer possessing this security. 

"Thank her yourself," Blaise said quietly, pulling Draco from his thoughts. 

Opening the box, Draco pocketed the jewel and clutched his wand. "I will, mate… thanks," he answered with one last meaningful flash at Blaise, who offered a slight nod as he swept from the room. 

Draco rushed from the Slytherin dorm, casting the cloak over himself as he bounded up the stairs two at a time. His heart was pulsating, thought only focused on getting to Hermione. He hadn't been to see her since she had been admitted; Potter had made it nearly impossible. He remained by her side night and day, unwavering in his concern, while she had been comatose. Draco cast a quick silencing charm on the hospital wing doors as he approached, ensuring Pomfrey wouldn't hear his entrance. 

Striding through her curtains was like being hit with a ton of stones. Her head held mostly bandages, her arms and legs the same. She didn't have a shirt on, her chest was hidden mostly by dressings that looked somewhat red. Casting a silencing charm, he sighed slightly as he closed his eyes, guilt tormenting him. 

If he had just given her the necklace sooner, forced her to talk earlier, perhaps none of this would have occurred. They could both be relaxing in the Room of Requirement together, reading, studying… holding one another. He felt tears pierce at the corner of his eyes and attempted to take a calming breath. 

"Granger…" he whispered as he ran a hand down the unbandaged side of her hair. "Granger…" he said again, and she stirred with a grunt. He felt the anxiety in his body hit a peak, beginning a descent away.

She whimpered, suddenly screaming somewhat inaudibly in fear as her eye snapped open. He saw the confusion on her features and tried to shush her. Her panicked eye traveled the room then settled on him, a hint of realization donning on her as she recognized her surroundings. 

"Hey… it's okay. Granger, it's me. You're safe here, with me..." Draco said as he drew his hand back, giving her space to calm. He pulled the chair behind him closer with his foot and sank into it, relief washing over him as she came completely awake. 

"Draco?" She whispered out in a sleepy voice, and his heart melted at the sound. 

"Yeah… it's me, beautiful." 

He watched as she tried to hold out her hand, one that held minimal bandages. It scarcely moved toward him, but he skimmed his fingers against her palm and clasped her hand tightly. They both sighed at the contact, her closing her eye with a heavy exhale, and he wringing his neck as the tension entirely left his body.

Draco tenderly lifted Hermione's hand to his lips, kissing it gently, and a smile slipped over her face. He kissed it again, and she chuckled a bit, the sound filling his eardrums like a chorus of angels. 

"Thank you, Draco… for saving my life," she spoke from behind a closed eye. 

"I couldn't let my wife die before we even had a proper opportunity," he whispered into her hand and kissed it again. 

She laughed then, not loudly but enough to be audible. Confusion fell in Draco's mind at her reaction. He had been sure she had come to the same conclusion he had. That they consummated a marriage after their ritual. She had even nearly called him her husband after snogging him senseless days ago, shoved up against the empty classroom door. 

"Why are you laughing?" He said, and he could hear the confusion and hurt in his tone. 

"We're not married," she said sleepily, her head falling toward him, her eye remaining shut. 

"I'm fairly confident we are, Granger." 

"It would be Malfoy," she said, and his heart raced as his lungs seized. She'd take his last name. She didn't even hesitate with her answer. Her face flushed slightly, and her lips twitched back into a smile. "But, we're not." 

"The book made me pretty clear," he stated. 

"The passages spoke about marriage, but I think those happened traditionally. The ritual…" Hermione trailed off, taking a few deep breaths. "It was a bonding." 

"Well, yeah, Granger…" 

Lazily, she opened her eye to meet his gaze. "A soul bonding…" she whispered, and the sound of his heart hammering in his ears drowned everything else out.

"What?" Was all he could muster in a quiet breath.

"That's what I needed to tell you. I did some research..." 

"Of course you did," he chuckled and kissed her hand again. The smile on her face grew at his attention. 

"It's not a marriage ritual or just a simple earth binding. It's a soul bond... I wondered why the passages were so different…" she trailed off and remained quiet for a minute, eye falling shut as her breathing fell deeply. He was just pleased to be sitting near her, he didn't push her. "The full moon… it's what was different. 114 years apart…" It was apparent she was weak; she could barely form a full thought. 

"Wouldn't Mother and Snape be…?"

"Draco, I think we've been doing this for centuries. I think all of those earmarked letters were us," she declared as her eye met his again. 

"Like… soulmates?" He breathed. 

"Yes… Josephine Black was a muggle-born."

"Different backgrounds… That's why I didn't know her name… or Perseus. If he married a muggle-born so recently..." 

"Your family ostracized him," she affirmed. "They lived out their lives in the muggle world. Josephine died 17 years ago, Perseus…" 

"16?" And she nodded. 

"So… so it's fate? Us? We're joined," he breathed, both making a statement and asking confirmation.

"It seems so. In this life, and the next." 

Her eyes closed again, and the soft smile on her face made his heart stop momentarily. She wasn't his wife; they were soulmates. Had been for centuries, it seemed, maybe longer. The ritual had united them together again, the latest in a long line of bodies that held their two souls.

"So, we're not married?" Was all he could think to say, and her small laughter filled the air and his lungs again. 

"No, we're not," she said quietly. 

"Well, good, then I can actually ask you properly one day," he chuckled, but her face fell in despair. 

"If I live," she said quietly, and fear coursed through his body. 

"Granger… I'm so sorry. This was my fault. I should have seen her signs. I should have…"

"Stop," she said firmly, her eye cracking open again with a fierceness. "This wasn't your fault. Pansy is a monster. The blame is on her and her alone."

"I didn't protect you…" 

"What could you have done, Draco? You didn't know she was going to corner me while I was alone, did you?" He shook his head, and they both fell quiet for a moment as her words washed over them. "I was weak…" she whispered, and he snorted. 

"No, you weren't," he said resolutely.

"I was. My magic is bound to the earth, and I couldn't even break the body bind of a 16-year-old girl… how will I ever survive a war?" He saw moisture rising in her eye as she turned to stare at the ceiling. 

"We'll practice. We'll learn how to control this magic," he said stubbornly, and a tear fell from her eye. 

"All I can do is silence without a wand…" she whispered. 

"Have you tried anything else," he questioned, and she shook her head no. "Well, then that statement isn't accurate. Look," he said as he held his free palm up, a small ball of fire igniting and illuminating the space around them. 

"Draco, that's amazing…" she whispered, her lips ticking up in astonishment. 

"It's all I can do… well... that and ripping wrapping paper, but it's something," Draco said as he shook his hand, the fire falling from life in his palm. 

"It's brilliant, Draco." 

"I… I also would love if you would wear this from now on," he said shyly. He pulled the sapphire pendant from his pocket and dropped it to hang from one finger. Her eye slipped to the remarkable piece of jewelry and spread wide for a moment. 

"Draco… it's beautiful. It's too much…" she whispered.

"Mother seems to think it is your right, as the lady of House Black…" 

"Draco, I told you were not married." 

"If we're not married, then it won't let you wear it." He stood and moved closer to her, running a hand down her exposed cheek as she sighed. "May I put it on?"

"I… suppose. But it won't work," she returned.

"Hmm," he murmured as he ran a feather-light hand around to support her neck. Taking the necklace in his fingers, he slowly slid the chain over her head, lowering it back to the pillow as he centered the chain within her wrapped breasts. He heard her gasp sharply, and a bit of dread rose that he had been wrong. That the necklace would choke her alive before he could remove it.

"I… I was wrong," she admitted, and he sighed, leaning down to carefully touch their foreheads. "I guess we are married."

"Or it's something deeper," he whispered as his lips met hers in a delicate kiss. "I'm sorry…" he said softly as he kissed Hermione again. "I won't let anything happen to you again." 

"What the _bloody hell_ is going on here," a venomous voice rang out, and both he and Hermione flinched in fright.

* * *

"Harry!" Hermione cried as Draco took a step back. She felt immediately cold at the loss of his contact. 

"What's going on here?" Harry intoned again, and Hermione thought she saw hate boiling in his eyes. He had his wand pointed at Draco's chest, and fear spread within her. He held the Marauder's Map in his opposite hand, and she knew he had been watching them. 

"Harry, please…lower your wand," Hermione pleaded. 

"You heard her Potter, lower your wand." Draco's face was just as venomous as Harry's. His eyes were narrowed slightly, not moving from their target, his spine straightened. 

"What is going on? Come back to finish the job, Malfoy? Couldn't leave her alive?" Harry had a calmness in his voice that he had long perfected. The type of calm that radiated hate and anger. 

"If I wanted her dead, Potter, would I be here kissing her? Would I have come and told you she had been hurt?" Draco's voice was low, but it held contempt.

"You didn't tell me _shit_ , ferret! You're sick, forcing yourself on a helpless woman. Did you Imperius her like you did Katie?" 

"Use your brain, Potter, of course, I told you!"

"You did nothing!" 

"I am not helpless!" Hermione yelled, and both men's eyes locked to her. "Harry, he's not forcing himself on me, and I'm not under the Imperius! He's not here to hurt me!"

"How can I believe that, 'Mione! His girlfriend just tortured you!"

"That bitch is not my girlfriend! I hope she rots for what she did!" Draco yelled as he leaned forward over her bed, a wave of anger on his features increasing to a height she hadn't seen in quite some time. 

" _Bullshit!_ " 

"Think whatever you want, but I wouldn't hurt Hermione!" 

"Don't call her that! You don't have the right!" Harry was yelling now. 

"Yes, he does, Harry!" Hermione cried again, and this time the force of her voice sent a shock of pain throughout her body. She winced, and she saw Draco move to comfort her.

"Back off, Malfoy," Harry snarled. 

"You back off, Harry!" Hermione thundered, wincing again. Draco dropped a hand into hers and squeezed it softly as she saw deeper anger grow over Harry's face. 

"Relax, you'll hurt yourself," Draco replied calmly as their gaze met. 

"Hermione, tell me what the hell is happening," Harry demanded.

"Harry, please lower your wand."

"What the bloody hell is happening?!" Harry bellowed. 

"It's… complicated, Harry." 

"Are you shagging this… this Death Eater?" Hermione's exposed eyebrow rose, and she felt her eye grow wide. Harry must have noticed the same, and his face crumpled in disbelief, mouth falling open in confusion. "How can you betray me like this?" He spoke quietly, and it made her gut wrench more than when he was yelling. "How could you do something so... _slaggy?_ " He accused her, and her heart shattered.

"Hey!" Draco shouted. "Don't talk to her that way!" 

"You don't get to tell me what to do, ferret!"

"Harry! It's not like that. Please..." she pleaded. 

"You're… just a treacherous whore," Harry breathed, a poison in his voice he had never aimed toward her before.

"Watch yourself, Potter," Draco growled, and Hermione saw the redness of anger rise across his neck. His nostrils were flared, brow furrowed, and eyes locked on Harry like a target. She could hear the labored breath he pushed as his chest swelled and fell. 

"You must love this," Harry spat quietly as he stared into Draco's face. "I'm sure Voldemort does. Bagged Harry Potter's prized _mudblood._ " 

Hermione watched Draco strike with the quickness of a dragon. As soon as the slur had left Harry's mouth, Draco drew his hand back and crushed it into Harry's cheek. Harry jerked, thrown off-kilter, as the thin frame spectacles knocked from his nose. Draco rounded the bed and seized Harry by the front of his shirt, hauling him up. 

"How _dare_ you call her that!" Hermione thought she could taste the anger radiating off of him.

Her whole body felt in worse pain than when Pansy had tortured her. Her heart felt as though it had shivered into a million pieces as tears leaked uncontrolled from her exposed eye, stinging her bandaged one in pain. She watched blurrily as Draco reared back and struck Harry in the face again. As he traced back to do so a third time, Hermione had half a mind to let him do it. To make Harry know the pain she currently held in her body. 

"Draco!" Hermione called as he drew his arm back, and it stalled him. "Don't."

Draco drove out a long breath and dropped Harry's shirt. Harry slumped to the ground, wiping the blood from his nose on his sleeve. Hermione watched as Draco's eyes fell closed, his fists clenched. Harry donned his glasses and stood, shock and grief on his features.

"'Mione…" he said quietly, but Hermione shook her head.

"No, Harry... You need to leave," Hermione whispered out through her tears.

"I'm… I'm sorry, 'Mione…" Harry tried to step forward, but Draco put a hand on his shoulder as his eyes snapped open. Rage still registered on his features.

"She said leave, Potter." The anger in his voice sent a chill down Hermione's spin. 

Harry looked to her, as if to confirm that he needed to leave, and found that her face held no will for him to stay. He nodded once and took a step back from Draco. 

"I'm sorry," he murmured as he retreated out of the curtains.

Hermione let out a long sob as she watched her best friend disappear. She felt Draco run a soft hand down her arm, attempting to calm her, but she only cried more. The bed rustled and then depressed as he laid down next to her. She couldn't open her eye, the pain of tears rendering deep in her heart. 

How could Harry say such a thing? How could he even think such a thing? Hermione knew he was under an insurmountable measure of stress, between the memory, his training with Dumbledore, and... Voldemort. But he didn't have a right. Her heart cinched again, and tears fell anew. 

"Shh…" she heard Draco whisper as his arm wrapped around her. She felt a warmth grow over her, but her tears didn't stop. "Shh…" he hushed her again, trailing his fingers along her arm as she cried herself to sleep. 

Deep clearing of a throat brought her from her serene slumber. As her eye fluttered open, no pain from the light, it landed on the stern expression of a greasy-haired Snape. He was standing just inside her curtains with his arms crossed, and a sneer on his face. 

"Draco…" Hermione muttered as she shook the man still draped across her, snuggled close in the tiny infirmary bed. 

"Mmh…" he moaned as he drew her tighter, making her wince. His eyes cracked at that, whispering his apology as he nuzzled further into her hair. Her heart fluttered, and it would have been adorable, had their professor not been hovering over them. 

"I _suggest_ ," Snape started, and she watched Draco's eyes open almost comically wide, his features awaking in shock. "You make your way to the dungeons, boy." 

Draco bolted from the bed, cold air saturating the spot he had been. "Godfather," he choked out as he bowed his head to leave. "Granger," he said softly, taking one last glance back at her as he stepped toward the curtain split. 

"Your mother is in my chambers, boy. She wants to see you," Snape's monotone voice rang out. Draco nodded and swept from her curtains, and she saw Snape's lip twitch in what she thought may have been a smile. 

"I am here to prepare your memories, Ms. Granger. The Headmaster thought it best to instruct you to present only the memories you wish seen." Hermione nodded as Snape rounded her bed and sat. He pulled out his wand, and the two fell into her darkest memory, waiting for the Aurors to arrive.


	6. His Best Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lemons ahoy!!
> 
> If thats not your thing. When you reach the ****, stop reading. :) you won't miss anything you won't pick up in the next chapter. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and reviewing!!!!
> 
> I don't own anything HP.

"Mother," Draco said as he wandered into his godfather's chamber. His mother looked radiant today, in satin pastel purple robes that flaunted her physique. But her face held a contemplative expression as she turned from the fire, smiling at him.

"Oh, darling, hello," she vocalized as she stood, walking to meet him near the door. She placed a soft hand on his face as a sweet smile molded her features. 

"Hello, mum," he said, feeling like the child he was. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" 

"Does a mother need an excuse to visit her son?" 

"When he is away at school, yes…" he answered stubbornly, and Narcissa chuckled. 

"Would you fancy a walk, dear? How about Hogsmead?"

"Mother, there's a foot of snow outside. It's not ripe for a stroll."

"Oh, pish, darling. It is nearly Christmas, and I wish to spoil my boy. Give your mother this?" She had a pitiful expression on her face. An attitude she has so perfectly cultivated as he had grown up. One that made him perpetually do as he was instructed. 

He murmured, hoisting his chin toward the ceiling. "Alright, mum," he lamented with a groan in his voice. 

"Wonderful, darling. But please, shower first. You smell." She patted his cheek with her fingers and grinned broadly.

Draco's mind was staunchly on the night prior as he moved about his hygiene routine. As he scrubbed the blood from his knuckles, he felt anger swell inside him anew. Potter had seen them. And rather than attacking him, he had degraded Hermione. When that wretched slur crossed his lips, Draco had sensed something burst inside him, anger overtaking as his fist connected with Potter's jaw. He had seen red, and if Hermione hadn't uttered his name, he would have kept at it. Kept giving the punishment he thought Potter so rightfully deserved. 

As he stepped into the shower, he inspected the revolting mark marring his left forearm for the first time since their ritual. It almost seemed… duller, he thought but chalked it up to the poor lighting and wishful thinking. The mark would never leave his skin. It would corrupt his flesh eternally, evident by the mark his father still possessed. 

He dressed in warm layers, donning a heavy cloak to thoroughly shield himself. He sighed to himself as he resigned his fate, leaving the Slytherin dorm, heading toward Severus' office. 

"Mother, are you ready?" Draco questioned as he clicked open his godfather's chamber door. His eyes bulged as they settled upon his mother standing chest to chest with Severus, a delicate hand on his cheek, his eyes sealed as he leaned into her palm. His godfather had his arms wrapped tightly about her lower back. "Mother?!" 

"Oh!" She spooked and withdrew her hand, stepping back.

Severus cleared his throat and adjusted his robes. "Ms. Granger will be released in a few days. I suggest you not end up in her cot, again, boy. I have duties," he uttered quickly as he swept from the room. 

Draco met his mother's gaze. She had a small smile on her face, one eyebrow raised in question. 

"It was nothing, mother. What was _that_?" Draco spoke with an accusatory temper, and his mother laughed softly, holding her arm out for him to take. The two walked in companionable silence for a while, passing through the castle and down the grounds toward Hogsmead. Draco slipped into his thoughts as they made leisurely work of their journey, cold hardening his features.

Truth be told, it hadn't been nothing. When he climbed into Hermione's infirmary bed last night, he had only meant to comfort her. Let her fall asleep and head back to his dorm. But as she cried in his arms, clutching at his shirt, he couldn't bear to move. When she had fallen quiet, a peaceful look on her red, blotchy face, he couldn't leave her. 

He felt more peaceful than he had in days lying with her in his grasp as he had floated into a peaceful slumber. And waking to her untamed curls rustling his skin, her scent permeating his nose had been unimaginable. Until his godfather spoke. Draco's cheeks flushed as the residual embarrassment overran him. 

"Mum…" he uttered as they strolled the trail toward Hogsmeade.

"A moment more, dear," she answered, joining her eyelids and tilting her chin toward the breeze. "I don't have this silence at home…"

"Right…"

She was hushed for a breath longer, sighing as she vocalized. "When your father went to jail, our marriage contract was nullified."

"What?" Draco answered in confusion.

"I may have been young when he and I married, but I was not blind," his mother continued. "He and I wrote articles into our contract. I had several stipulations before I consented to the union. The principal of them should he be sent to jail, our contract would be invalidated. I knew where his allegiances laid even then."

"Right…" 

"And I would get half of his wealth," she said naturally, as though it was nothing.

"What?!"

"And better, our heir was to get half of his remaining wealth. And the manor," his mother sang. Her eyes remained on the pathway in front of them, but Draco watched the grin spread across her traits. "Why do you think he gave such significant energy to keeping himself out of trouble?" 

Draco felt slightly dumbstruck, helpless to respond. 

"I never loved your father, Draco. I did my duty as a pureblood lady and became the ideal pureblood wife. Hindsight is surely daunting, dear. But I was gifted with you, and that makes it all worth it."

"Mother, what does this have to do with Uncle Sev?" 

"Severus and I are in love."

"What?!" He felt his mouth open, letting the cold air dry out his teeth. But he couldn't believe it. His mother and his _godfather_ in love?

"I was never untrue to your father. One of his conditions, the other I provide him an heir. The last he and I touched was the day I discovered I was expecting." 

"Enough…" he groaned, and his mother snickered. 

"When he went to jail…"

"You were free to be with Uncle Sev…"

"Yes, dear. We have countless years to make up for. So I visit regularly… It also helps to be away from the manor…"

"I worry about you…" Draco spoke quietly, his mood turning grim as the terror of his mother being abandoned at the manor sank in anew. 

"Do not worry after me, dear. You have your own… concerns to tend to..." 

"I don't want it… I don't want this mission, Mother."

"You have a decision to make, Draco," she said thoughtfully. 

"There's no choice. I have to do this. He'll kill you if I don't!" 

"And I will deserve it for my mistakes in life. For permitting this to occur. I've accepted it, darling."

He pulled his mother to a stop, turning to look her deep in the eyes. "Absolutely not! I will kill that old man if I have to!" His face distorted in rage, but his heart raced with fear.

Narcissa's eyes were sad as she held a palm to his cheek, and he felt tears fall down his face. He couldn't let her die, but he didn't think he could genuinely murder the man so many people looked up to. He wasn't that cruel… or maybe he was. Maybe to save someone he loved, he had to be. 

"There's always another way, dear," his mother said quietly, but his mind thought of nothing. Nothing that would protect them both and permit them to live vibrant, peaceful lives without tarnishing his soul. He knew he didn't deserve a happy life, but his mother did. She didn't merit the treatment she had been given day in and day out. She was a saint and warranted all the happiness in the world. 

"How is my daughter-in-law?" Narcissa questioned with a gentle tone drawing him from his musing.

"What?" he snorted in surprise, tears still slipping from his eyes. Leave it to his mother to switch the subject so abruptly.

"Ms. Granger. How is she?" his mother flashed him a sly smile. 

"She's not your daughter-in-law, Mother," he said obstinately, but he sensed a blush grow over his face as his mother lowered her hand and launched their journey to Hogsmeade once more. 

"Severus said she wore the sapphire," his mother said matter-of-factly. Draco nodded dumbly, and his mother smiled wider at him. "Well, then, I'll ask again. _How is my daughter-in-law_?" 

"She's doing better…"

"That's it?" 

"She was tortured, Mother. We haven't had ample time to chat. What else do you want?" He snapped at her. 

"I have overheard they are proposing life in Azkaban for Pansy."

"She deserves the kiss." 

"That is your bond speaking, dear."

"And the bond is right. She deserves the kiss." 

His mother tutted as they walked through the entrance of Hogsmeade. It was quiet, not too many people milling about the stores. Fear, he thought as he mused over the muteness. His mother spoiled him the remainder of the day; giant bags of sweets, new robes, more parchment, and exquisite quills. She had also purchased Hermione an assortment of luxurious dress robes, commanding Draco to give them as a gift on Christmas.

* * *

Hermione perched at the Gryffindor table, picking over melon on her plate, her body devoid of appetite. She had been discharged from the hospital wing this morning, four days after waking. The walk into the Great Hall had been tense, notably awkward. 

Students stared at her, some whispering as she walked by, some gasping at the scars on her face. She had tried to hide them with concealment charms, but they had pressed through. The stares got more evident as Harry and Ron entered, sitting apart from her farther down the table. 

The sound of owls fluttering spooked her somewhat as the post was delivered. A regular brown barn owl dropped the Daily Prophet in front of her, and she shoved her plate away as she unrolled it. The headline made her breath hitch in her throat.

_Parkinson Hier Sentenced to Life in Azkaban_

Pansy's sneer as they captured her mugshot hurled a chill down Hermione's spine. She looked just as vicious as that day, not so long gone. Hermione skimmed the article, and it was apparent the reasoning hadn't been published for the punishment. She hoped for her privacy, but she knew unlimited galleons had been placed in the proper pockets. 

"Hey, 'Mione!" Ginny called as she paced the aisles, taking a seat alongside her. "Oh, that's good news," she rang out as she peered at the paper Hermione held in her hand. 

"I suppose," Hermione said inaudibly, folding the paper and placing it down. 

"You're going to the Slug Club dinner tonight?" Ginny asked with a radiant smile on her face. 

"Yeah, he invited me yesterday. A pity invite, I'm sure." 

"So what," Ginny shrugged. "It's free food." 

Hermione giggled at that. _Just like her brothers_ , she mused as she eyed down the table to where Harry and Ron sat with Lavender and Romilda Vane. Harry glanced up at her at that moment, and her heart stopped. She wanted to cry as his eyes went wide and then sad, but she checked herself. She watched as he made to stand, but she acted first. 

"I'm going to class, Gin," she said as she rose hastily. 

"Classes don't start for 30 minutes! I just got here. I didn't even ask how you are..." Ginny pouted. 

"I can't be in here anymore," Hermione mumbled, and she imagined she sounded pathetic. 

"Oh, okay… Meet me in the common room later? We can walk to Sluggy's together." Ginny demanded, and Hermione offered her a sharp nod as she shouldered her bag and made for the doors. 

She pressed herself into an alcove just outside the Great Hall and permitted herself to shed a few tears. Her anxiety was high, mind wondering about the rumors spreading about her. About Harry's slip of the tongue. About Draco and his mission. Her heart held grief, and she deplored herself for being so weak. For weeping instead of acting.

Drying her eyes, she cast a quick charm to clear her face and made for the Alchemy classroom. As she turned the corner, her eyes settled upon an immaculate head of shaggy blonde hair. He was leaning upon the wall, one leg lifted, sole against stone, just as he had been that night in the library. She felt her cheeks flush at the image of their shared kiss that evening. He looked handsome, eyes closed as his head sank lightly back against the stone wall. 

"Granger," he said with a slow drawl as she approached.

"How'd you know it was me?" 

"Felt less agitated," he shrugged as he opened his eyes, eyeing her up and down. 

"That happens for you, too?" She breathed. 

"Even more, when I touch you." Draco thrust off the wall then and paced to her. He slipped a hand around her neck and pillowed his lips on hers so suddenly she barely had time to react. She thought it was dangerous, but as the anxiety slid from her body, she relaxed into him. She opened her mouth somewhat for his entrance, which he eagerly accepted with his tongue. 

"Hey," he whispered against her lips as he leaned back imperceptibly, and her heart leaped. 

"Hi," she answered as she kissed him anew. Only for a moment before she unlatched their mouths and drew back from him. He had a crooked smile on his face, and she felt her cheeks flame from a blush. 

"We can't do that in the halls, Draco," She said determinedly.

"No one was nearby." 

"They could walk around the corner at any minute!" 

"They didn't. And you feel better, don't you?" He cracked a full grin as she folded her arms across her chest with a temper. "Admit it," he murmured as he shifted a hand within the slit of her robe and gripped her hip, drawing her back into his chest. 

"Fine, of course, I do!" She huffed as she wrinkled her nose, but loosened her arms and laid them tenderly against his chest. Her fingers played with the collar of his shirt as he chuckled.

"How are you feeling?" He whispered, his free hand trailing a thumb delicately over her left cheek. She felt insecurity mount in her stomach as his eyes traced the scar on her face. 

"It's hideous…" she murmured, tears threatening a downfall again. 

"It's a mark of how strong you are," he expressed, leaning in and dropping a kiss to her eyebrow. "That could never be hideous."

She felt the blush grow deeper over her features. "It's all a dull pain now… the staring is the most unfortunate part."

"The necklace?" 

Hermione shifted the collar of her robes and shirt down, exposing the delicate silver chain that enveloped her neck. "I can't just wear it exposed… people would ask questions." 

"Hmm," he hummed, and she thought he nearly seemed sad. 

Hermione watched his eyes snap wide as he cleared his throat. He released her and took a sudden step backward, his face going stern, dropping into a leer that sent a stinging pain to her heart. "Whatever, Granger. Fine. Library tonight at ten. Strive not to get tortured this time."

She heard the footsteps in the distance grow louder, two girls gasping at his statement as he paced into the door away from her. She acknowledged it had been for show, but she felt tears form in her eyes at how cruel he had sounded. The two Ravenclaw girls approached, putting soft hands on her shoulders in encouragement. Hermione thanked them with a small nod, trying not to cry, as she made her way into the classroom. 

Their eyes locked for a moment, and her heart clenched. The pain written on his face was just as visible as the tears in her eyes. As she found her seat, a familiar paper beetle crawled over her arm and unfurled itself.

_I'm sorry_

She glanced at him, and he was staring out the window, paying no attention to her or the room as more students trickled in. 

It wasn't until the professor started to lecture did she discern how far behind in her schoolwork she actually was. Shaking herself from her thoughts, she dove into her school work for the rest of the day. The world may be falling around her, but knowledge could solve it. 

Her wand buzzed later that evening, at five 'til eight. Stretching out her body, she wrung her neck and straightened the parchment in front of her. She had made it halfway through her and Draco's assignment, wishing it would grant them time to work through his mission without further disturbances. 

She dressed hurriedly, pausing for only a minute to attempt to soothe her mangled hair. As she took in the wild nature of her appearance, she glanced down at her hand and smiled a bit. Several strands of her hair were snagged in her nails again. She had undoubtedly been working her hand through her hair for the past few hours. Snickering to herself, she snagged her wand and made to meet Ginny in the common room.

"You, too?" Hermione overheard Ron bellow as she descended the girl's stairs. 

"It's not my fault you have no redeeming qualities, Ron," Ginny countered, and Hermione had to stifle a laugh as her feet met the common room floor.

"Oi! I'm plenty good! As good as you are! Either of you!" Ron cried as he motioned between Hermione and Ginny as she stepped up.

"Better, even!" Lavender added from underneath his arm, and Ron nodded vigorously. 

"Right," Ginny monotone with a smirk as she turned toward Hermione. "Ready?" 

Hermione shot a small leer toward the two lovebirds and rolled her eyes. "To be anywhere but here? Yes." Hermione returned to Ginny's deep laughter. Both Lavender and Ron's mouths hung open, Ron's face going bright red as the two girls exited the common Room. 

The walk to the dungeons was spent mostly laughing over Ron and his current uncertainty. Ginny lamented being related to such a prat the whole trail down. Hermione could hardly breathe through the laughs as Ginny's hands animatedly followed her diatribe. It was a nice change from the constant struggle in her mind. The sadness and anger she always felt. She cherished Ginny for her expertise to pull happiness in any situation.

Professor Slughorn's office was loud as the students who were already gathered chatted amongst themselves. Most were seated, except for Harry, who stood speaking to the professor. Slughorn greeted Hermione and Ginny with a boisterous hello, directing them to sit wherever they liked. 

Hermione nodded her acceptance, glancing hurriedly at Harry, who maintained a pensive look on his face as he regarded her. Slughorn had started talking again, but Harry appeared to pay him no mind, his eyes centered on her. 

She and Ginny choose chairs caddy corner to Mclaggen, whose eyes were disgustingly roaming Hermione's body. The idea made her want to wretch. He was a loathsome human, and sitting out of his direct line of sight had been the only valid option. 

As Harry's conversation died down, she saw him eye the vacant seat next to her. Panic rose somewhat, thinking he may use this night to speak with her. To try and reconcile the shameful actions he had made. She wasn't positive that she was fit for that confrontation. Slughorn clapped Harry on the shoulder and startled him; Harry nodded as he moved toward the seat beside her. 

"Ah, Hermione," she heard drawled behind her as Blaise pulled out the offending chair, sinking into it smoothly. "Thanks for saving my seat. Red." He bowed toward Ginny, firing her a smooth smirk and a wink. 

"Of course… Blaise," Hermione nodded, attempting not to appear surprised as Harry looked on. She saw his brow wrinkle slightly as he froze, observing the scene. 

"How are you feeling?" Blaise asked. 

"I am doing better, thank you for asking," Hermione answered with a smile, shifting her body toward him somewhat. She noticed from the corner of her eye as Harry hung his head, taking the last seat next to Mclaggen. She caught Ginny's snicker and sought not to do the same. 

She had told Ginny what transpired the night Harry had visited. The red-head had been so fiercely upset Hermione had to silence her quiet. It had taken hours to persuade her that it had admittedly been an accident. Some sort of conditioned response. Hermione herself had reached that conclusion as she mulled over the situation in her infirmary bed.

He had plainly seen a man he thought was the enemy and an endeavored murderer snogging his best friend. He had merely been trying to protect her. She had sought to explain this same thing to Ginny, but the firey red-head had disagreed with an ardent " _bullshit_."

The night went placidly. The conversation seemed to bubble around the group until Slughorn questioned what Hermione's parents did in the muggle world. The table had gone silent, all pairs of eyes falling to her. She had felt notably uncomfortable speaking about her parent's profession. When she told the story of her father being bitten, only Harry chuckled awkwardly, and she felt disquiet build in her gut. 

Until Blaise leaned over a while later and poked fun at her for it, enticing a laugh. He had been in her space all night, leaning over to ask her questions or state random observations. Whispering to her about nothing. Shooting her heated glances and lopsided grins.

As students filed from the professor's office after dinner, Blaise accompanied her out. He had a hand low on her back as he held the door open for her. He was rather close; she could smell the notes of campfire and cinnamon that wafted from his well-pressed suit. She sensed a warmth spread over her cheeks, a bit embarrassed that her friend's assumed boyfriend had been flirting with her all evening. 

As they traveled into the hallway, she noticed Harry standing awkwardly in the corner of the corridor as she exited, gazing on at her and Blaise with confusion. 

They walked a touch together, Ginny leading them, until Blaise tugged Hermione's arm, slowing her progress. Ginny walked on without a backward glance as he stopped them near to the Slytherin common room door. He shifted their body's toward one another with a smooth grin. 

"This is frankly just to make him squirm," Blaise whispered as he leaned somewhat into her. Harry, who had been trailing behind them, looked a bit uncomfortable as he lingered in the hallway. Blaise dipped into her, running his hand up her arm to clasp her bicep. 

"He said to meet him where he disappears," he murmured in her ear with a smooth grin. 

She could see Harry over Blaise's shoulder, and he seemed as though he may be sick. He blinked several times and rocked his head slightly, turning to pace up the stairs. When he disappeared, Blaise drew back, composing himself. 

He bowed gracefully to her, "Good night, Granger," and left her a tad bewildered in the hallway. 

Hermione took a moment to breathe and clear her mind. What a confusing man. He had practically held onto her all night and then whispered about Draco in her ear. Directing her to join him where he disappeared… The Room, she thought as she took another deep breath and scaled the stairs. Waiting against the wall at the top was her red-headed friend. She had a pensive look on her face, arms crossed over her chest. 

"Gin, I'm sorry, he just…" Hermione stammered as she approached. 

Ginny's eyes snapped to hers, and a devilish grin grew across her face. She shrugged as she pushed off the wall and made toward Hermione. "It was my idea." 

"What?!" Hermione screeched.

"Did you see Harry twitch?!" Ginny laughed uproariously as they started to ascend the stairs. "It was so worth it!" 

"And you didn't tell me?!" 

"Oh, no! You would have ruined it. You're an appalling actor!" 

Both girls laughed wholeheartedly as they bounded toward the 7th floor. Hermione didn't positively believe that Harry deserved to be gotten back at, but it had been innocent fun. It would serve his Slytherin aversion right if he thought anything amiss with it. 

When they reached the 7th-floor corridor, Hermione hesitated, tugging her friend's arm.

"Hey Gin, uh... I'll catch you later, okay?" 

Ginny grinned broadly. "Got a hot date?" She winked and shimmied her shoulders. 

Hermione rolled her eyes, but her lips wore a smile. "Goodnight, Gin." 

The red-head grinned as she walked through the Gryffindor portrait hole, leaving Hermione singly on the landing. She took a long breath, traversing her way down the hall. The corridor in front of Barnabas the Barmy was abandoned. Draco was nowhere in sight. Perhaps she had gotten it wrong? Maybe he hadn't meant the Room? 

"Granger," was whispered into the space behind her, and it sent a chill down her spine. Whether from fear or excitement, she wasn't sure. Hermione recognized his voice. She could sense it was him. "Ask it for the place where things are hidden," he added.

She nodded and paced thrice in front of the wall, and a meager wooden door appeared. As she cracked the door, she felt a hand press into her back. The door sealed behind her as she took a few small steps into the Room.

* * *

Her face bore a lovely smile as she turned to him, and he chuckled. Pulling the cloak over his head, Draco felt his lips twitch up into a smirk. 

"I could have been anyone, Granger." 

"I knew it was you," she said a bit shyly. "Blaise did tell me to meet you here, after all." 

"So you just trusted a Slytherin, sending you to meet another Slytherin, that it wasn't an ambush?" He clicked his tongue as he rocked his head. She laughed delicately, and it permeated his ears. "You should know better."

"You would hurt me," she whispered as she took slow steps toward him.

"No, I wouldn't,' he said firmly, giving her a soft smile. 

"Draco, why are we here?" She had stopped just within reach. He could smell the lavender of her soap as it invaded his space again. But she also smelled… wooden? 

"Why do you smell like Blaise?" Her bright laughter filled the air again, and he couldn't help but smile. "Granger?"

"Well, Ginny had a bit of fun with Harry tonight, for calling me…"

"And that has to do with you smelling like Blaise, how?" Draco challenged, and he heard the jealousy in his voice. 

"Well, he sort of flirted with me all evening. Got rather close. Harry was quite uncomfortable."

"He did what?" Draco felt a moment of rage boil inside of him. How dare someone tease with his Hermione, let alone it be his best friend. Blaise knew everything about them, how Draco felt about her. And he had the Weasley girl. What was he thinking?

"Oh relax," she laughed softly and pushed his chest playfully. "He was only doing it because Ginny asked." 

"Doesn't make it any better, Granger," he heard himself growl as he leaned into her hand, her touch soothing away some of his annoyance. "I don't share."

"Draco, why are we here?" she breathed again. 

"I need to show you something." He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to quiet himself. 

He had invited Hermione here tonight to show her why he had spent so much time in the Room of Requirement. Why he vanished from the map. What the other moiety of his mission was. She withdrew her hand from his chest, and when he opened his eyes, the worried expression on her face tugged at his heart. 

"This way," he muttered, taking a step around her and driving into the mountains of mess. He heard her shuffle somewhat, and then her hand slid into his. She laced their fingers with a tight squeeze but made no other sounds as he led her through the stacks of junk. 

Nausea formed in his gut as the Vanishing Cabinet filled his view. It appeared to grow larger every time he examined it. The metal spikes seemed sharper, attempting to stretch out and slice him. The wood looked darker, more dangerous, as though it would swallow him into oblivion should he fail. He deemed it may be better than going home. He halted his movement a few paces away from the cabinet, willing it not to devour him. 

"What is it?" She asked as she released his hand and strode toward it. His heart seized as she neared the artifact. 

"A Vanishing Cabinet. I'm mending it..." 

"You're mending it?" She was running her hand along the cabinet's wood, her eyes darting over it speedily.

"I'm to let Death Eaters into the castle. The night I… I was supposed to come here first, and open the entrance from..."

"Borgin and Burkes..." she muttered, and it startled him. 

"How did you know?" She was soundless for a lingering second and refused to meet his eyes. Ire started to rise in him at her stillness. "Granger, how do you know?" 

"We followed you…" 

"What? Speak up," he commanded, and she flinched.

"At the start of term, in Daigon. We saw you and your mother and we… we followed you. We saw the cabinet. It's why Harry is convinced you're…" 

He could feel anger and shame swirling in his gut. She had known the entire time. And Potter had to. He couldn't speak, for fear of saying things he would regret. 

"Draco… we have to speak to Dumbledore," she muttered, taking a step into him.

"No," he said resolutely, holding his hand up to her. She shied a bit, and it made him swell with anger. "I'm not going to hit you, Granger, for fuck's sake." 

"I know…" she said meagerly. 

"Do you?!" he bellowed, and she recoiled away again. He saw a hint of fear on her features and felt immediately depraved. He was making her uncomfortable and condemning her for her response. "Sorry…" he uttered, and she nodded meekly.

"He can help..." 

"No, Granger!" He tried not to shout, but he knew his voice sounded harsh. "Someone sees me talk to him, and my mother will be murdered!" 

"We'll do it secretly!"

"No. Leave it, Granger. You did that ritual for your parents, and I'm doing this for her!" He roared that time and watched her wince again. He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to calm himself. He shouldn't be shouting at her. Hermione was one of the only people in his life trying to support him. Trying to protect him. "I will not put Mother in danger." 

"Okay…" she whispered as she glanced down at the floor. 

"I'm sorry…" 

"Thank you for showing me," she offered with a sad smile as she met his eyes. "We'll figure this out, Draco. I promise you." She articulated just as determined as she had the night of the ritual. He watched as her face furrowed, her nostrils flared. "I won't let them hurt your mother." 

He moved only slightly, lifting her chin to meet her eyes. They were still determined, still furrowed, and all he could do was grin. The intensity written on her features made him soften. It wasn't only passion for him. It was emotion for his mother, passion for them. Desire for their future. 

He leaned in, gently, and captured her lips, caressing her as sweetly as he could muster. His emotions were so turbulent that he felt a tear slip down his cheek onto her face. 

"Thank you," he whispered against her lips and felt her lift somewhat to meet his lips again. She kissed him heatedly for a moment before pulling away. She slipped her hand into his and tugged him, wandering back toward the door. 

"Put the cloak on," she commanded as they approached the exit. Draco gave her a troubled expression, and she rolled her eyes. "Just put it on." 

Draco groaned and slipped the cloak over his head. She unlatched the door and indicated for him to leave first. He felt sadness slide into his heart as he walked out the door, pausing only a moment to make sure she was following. He had hoped to spend a bit more time with her. Make up for the days they had missed because of Pansy's evil acts. Clearly showing her the cabinet had lost her favor. Had scared her away. He sighed to himself, turning and advancing for the stairs.

As he met the hallway, he heard a shifting of stone. He turned back and watched a delicate, ornate door appear where the shaggy wooden one had just sat. Hermione opened it and slipped into the Room, and he felt himself rushing back to dive inside before she shut it. 

When he crossed the threshold, he discovered himself in a much more modest, quainter room. The only light was a fire roaring on the far wall, flanked by shelves lined with books. A rich, luxurious sofa sat in front of the fire, pleading to be perched on. But what made him flush as he removed the cloak was the large 4-poster bed that sat on the opposite side of the room. The dark cherry wood felt inviting, the sheer curtains hanging from the rails giving it an almost etheric radiance. 

"Granger… what did you ask it for?" he chuckled out lightly.

"Just a place for us to relax…" she replied quietly with a shy laugh. 

"Very relaxing," he snickered out darkly as he detected her approach from behind. She ran a firm hand down his back, and it felt as though she was unlocking his bars. Allowing herself in. He caught himself moaning at the pressured contact. Both her hands encircled his neck then, kneading lightly as he rolled it. "That feels great…" he said quietly.

****

Her hands vanished from his back, and a second later, he felt as her breasts pressed against him, her lips meeting his neck. The shiver of pleasure that coursed through his body went straight to his groan, his cock growing immeasurably stiff nearly instantly. She trailed a hand along his shoulder as she sauntered around him. She looked so sexy, her face filled with lust, her mouth slightly open as her tongue darted across her lower lip, drawing it between her teeth. 

"Granger…" he growled deeply, seizing her hips and drawing her in. She gasped lightly, a smile creeping over her features.

"Shh…" she whispered, pushing up on her tiptoes and tracing her hands about his neck. She smashed her lips to his then and snogged him fervently. Her hands clutched his neck, and he felt her thrust her hips forward.

When she palmed his cock through his trousers, he lost all faculties. He pushed her back somewhat and trailed his hands down her sides, dragging the hem of her jumper upward over her head. His breath caught in his chest as his sights landed on the sapphire between her breasts. But it wasn't the pendant that willed him breathless. It was the rune emblazoned on her skin. 

He traced a finger along the edges of it, eyes focused, and he felt her shudder, a moan leave her lips with a gasp.

"It showed up that night," she murmured into the distance between them.

"I know," he said firmly, drawing his shirt over his head. Hermione's eyes went round and met his gaze as his own rune fell exposed. "So did mine." 

Hermione bent forward and pressed a light kiss to his rune. His whole body tingled, and he understood her shiver. The desire that coursed through him was unlike any other. Her tongue darted out, and she licked the darkened skin, and he lost all thought.

Grabbing her arse, he lifted her effortlessly, and she wrapped her legs around his hips. She moaned anew as he ground his member against her apex, tugging at the hair as the base of his skull as a smile ghosted her features. He walked them back, bumping the bed somewhat as he dropped her on it. The lust-filled appearance on her face, her eyelids hung low, her mouth parted, made his cock twitch. 

Making short work of both their pants, Draco crawled over her, her legs dropping open to allow him entrance. 

He dropped burning kisses along her stomach, across her breasts, and along her neck and jaw, as he worked his way to her ear. She writhed underneath him and moaned aloud as he bit down on her earlobe. 

"I'm going to fuck you, Hermione," he growled into her ear, and her fingers clutched the sheets as she panted in pleasure. 

Tracing a hand down her body, he grasped her breast purposefully, and she sighed. Kissing her with the fire that came from deep within him, he trailed his hand further down her fit form. His fingers met lace knickers, and he slipped them in, teasing her only slightly before he palmed her hot core, massaging it tenderly. He pressed a finger to her clit, circling it like he knew she liked. Her head fell back into the pillows as she exhaled another soft moan.

"Draco, please." Gods, the way she cried his name, voice loaded with lust almost made him come unglued. "Take what you want," she murmured as she bucked her hips against his finger. Her wetness soaked them as the scent of her arousal filled the air. 

Fuck, she's perfect, he thought has he withdrew his hand, moved her knickers to the side and drove two fingers in her tight slit without hesitation, his thumb falling to her clit with pressure. She panted out as he began pumping his fingers at an even pace. Her hands went wild in his hair, and she dragged his head down and pressed passionate kisses to his lips. She was losing control already, he could tell. Her body was already tight, her legs twitching as he pushed into her over and over. 

"Draco," she moaned against his lips. "I… I need you. Please," she begged, and he could feel her walls begin to tighten around his fingers. Pulling them from her slit before she came, he took a chance and ran them along her mouth. Her tongue darted out to meet them, licking herself from both digits. His cock grew impossibly harder as she pulled his fingers into her mouth, sucking them as if they were his member. 

He kissed her soundly as he removed his fingers, swirling his tongue with hers. He could taste her juices on her lips. She tasted just as sweet as the night of their ritual. The night he brought her to climax as he feasted on her pussy. The first night he had tasted her and concluded he wanted no one else. The moment he had dreamt of since that night, waking in a sweat as he stroked the pleasure from his body. 

He vanished both of their underwear with a wave of his hand suddenly. He took only a brief moment to admire Hermione's center as it clinched, anticipating being filled. He skimmed his cock along her folds and coated himself in the slickness that sat waiting. As he lined himself up and pushed deliberately into her, his head fell to her shoulder. He groaned at the sensation of her tight walls as they gripped his cock, drawing him in.

"Please," he heard her beg as he pulled himself out and pushed slowly into the hilt. She moaned into his ear, and he drove again. 

"Fuck, Hermione… you're perfect," he sighed into her shoulder as he picked up the pace. He wasn't going to last long, he knew it. But he slammed into her core regardless. 

Her fingers dug further into his neck as her mouth fell open in silent gasps, her nails sending sharp waves of pleasure through his body. Her legs were twitching in his hold as her head tipped back, eyes closed in concentration. Her back arched off the bed, her hips snapping up to meet his every thrust. A smile shifted over her face as the pleasure coursed through them, their joined bodies growing slicker with every passing second. 

"Oh, gods. Yes, Draco!" She cried out as her walls clamped down on his cock as she fell over the edge. Draco pumped into her faster, fucking her relentless through her orgasm as her cries permeated the room. When she bucked her hips into him as she came, legs quivering, he lost control and followed her over the cliff. He held her closer as he emptied himself into her middle, pumping one, two, three times more as he filled her. 

Her breathless moans died into pants as he saw a satisfied grin fall over her face. He peppered light kisses along her jaw, her cheek, her neck, her chest as he unsheathed himself.

"Mmmh," she sighed, and Draco chuckled.

"Good for you?" He whispered into her hair as he kissed her head. She nodded in reply, a dainty laugh leaving her lips. Draco kissed her temple as he summoned his wand and cast a cleansing charm on them. He peered down on her, and the satisfied smile she still held, her eyes closed and breath uneven, made him swell with pride. 

"You vanished my knickers…" she breathed, and the light laugh she let out filled his ears. 

"They were in the way of what I wanted," he said, and a smirk grew across his lips. "And I get what I want, Granger."

Hermione rolled her eyes as she playfully swatted him. "Hmm, right. Like you were the one who wanted that." She shot him a devilish smirk, and he raised both eyebrows at her comment. 

"I feel used…" he feigned hurt as he planted a mock hand over his heart, rolling into his back next to her. He held his arm up for Hermione to snuggle into him, throwing the other hand behind his head.

"And satisfied," she shrugged, nestling into his side. He kissed the top of her head as she nuzzled against him, and his heart rippled. The scent of lavender wafted from her, invading his senses and calming him almost instantly. She ran her nails lightly across his chest, circling his rune, leaving red marks and goose flesh in her wake. 

"Snape is your godfather?" She asked quietly, and it threw him. 

"I don't want to talk about Uncle Sev right after making love to you, Granger…" he said, and she laughed lightly against him.

"I just didn't know." 

"Apparently, he's a bit more than my godfather these days." 

"What?" At that, she shifted up on her elbow and glanced down at him, a quizzical look on her face. 

"He and Mother are… well…" he motioned to their nakedness and watched the hysteria register over her features. Her lips thrust up in a bright smile as she sprang into laughter.

"No way!" She snorted, and Draco just shrugged. 

"She told me the other morning." 

"Wow. Who would have thought Snape could actually woo a woman. Let alone someone as beautiful as your mum!" 

"He's not all bad. He practically raised me."

"Oh?" She asked, placing her head back on his chest, restarting her feather-light caresses. He tightened his arm around her, drawing her in closer. 

"Yeah… I hadn't thought about it before the other day, but he did. All the happy memories I have, he was there. The first time I rode a broom. Visiting dragons in Romania. Going off to Hogwarts. He was the one who was there… I hadn't noticed…"

"Because you were fighting so hard to please Lucius…" she finished for him, and all he could do was nod. She ran a hand down his left arm, tenderly drawing it closer to her. He knew she was scrutinizing the Dark Mark. The ugly sin that tainted him. What trying too hard to please his father had given him. 

"It looks… fainter," Hermione uttered quietly, and he glanced down at his arm. He had thought it an illusion of light when he inspected it days ago. But maybe...

"It's just the light."

"No, it is definitely lighter."

"It's just the light…" he said again, and she sighed.

"Why was your mother here?" She questioned, running a finger around the edges of his Dark Mark. 

"You're dreadful at pillow talk, Granger," he said, and they both chuckled lightly. 

"Would you prefer we talk about our school work?"

"Even worse."

"Then why was your mother here?" She punctuated with a poke to his chest. 

"She spends a fair bit of time here, apparently. With Uncle Sev." 

"Still so weird," she giggled. 

"Wanted to take me to Hogsmeade to spoil me, apparently."

"And did she?" 

"Thoroughly. She said to tell you hello, and she's glad you are in better health." 

"Well, thank her for me."

"Are you going to the Quidditch match tomorrow?" He inquired. She looked a bit reflective before she shook her head no. "Meet me back here?" 

"Sure," she answered, a smile gracing her features. "I should probably go." 

"Love me and leave me, Granger?" he smirked, but he saw her eyes go somewhat round at his profession. 

"I... uh… school work!" She yelped out clumsily. "I need to catch up." She shifted off the bed then, and he felt cold fill the space she had been. 

Draco sat, summoning his trousers, and transfigured them into sleep pants. He slipped them on as he watched her dress, a smile blossoming over his face. When she was done, she turned to him and shifted somewhat shyly. 

"Come here," he directed and stuck out his palm to her. As she slipped her hand into his, he opened his legs and hauled her closer. He encircled his arms around her back as hers traveled about his neck. 

"Don't go…" he pleaded. "Stay with me." 

"Someone has to do our work," she giggled lightly as her hands massaged his neck again. 

"Bugger work."

"We just agreed to meet tomorrow. You'll be sick of me soon."

"I could spend endless moments in your presence and never tire of you," he murmured as their hearts met. Hermione beamed entirely and bent down, pressing her lips tenderly to his. 

"Good night, Draco," she whispered against his lips, punctuated with another chaste kiss. 

"Good night, beautiful." He withdrew his arms as she pulled back, turned, and made to leave. She paused briefly at the door, turning back to smile at him. He winked with a lopsided grin as she swept from the door. 

He laid back in the bed, sighing to himself as he stared at her bare bedside. He didn't deserve her. None of her. And yet she so willingly gave her entire self to him without a second thought. He couldn't help the smile that adorned his face as he closed his eyes and drifted into a dreamless slumber.


	7. Training for a Breakdown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovies! 
> 
> I'm sorry to be late with this chapter. taking on two separate stories as my first attempt at fanfics was an awful idea. And I think this story is suffering because of it. 
> 
> I also learned my grandma passed this weekend, so that didn't help. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I may move to updating once every 2 weeks so I can put more thought and effort into each chapter.
> 
> I apologize again. 
> 
> I don't own anything related to Harry Potter. 
> 
> comments / suggestions / critiques always appreciated

Hermione had a lie in the next morning, lingering in the dreams of her fated lover. She woke sometime after the sun Saturday morning, a soft smile on her lips and an aching in her core that made her flush. Her roommates were all absent or had yet to return, and for that, Hermione was grateful. She plucked the book from her side table, one she had nicked from the library when investigating soulbonds, and lost herself in it for a while.

Ginny barged into her dorm just after 9 a.m., clad crown to sole in her Quidditch gear. She had a vibrant, broad grin across her face. This was her day. The day she cherished more than any else. The warmth and happiness radiating off of her were palpable as she approached Hermione's bed, plopping down beside her. 

"Morning!" Ginny sang.

"Good morning, Gin," Hermione chuckled. "I see you're ready." 

"I was ready weeks ago!" she lamented with a grin. "Come on, then. Let's get breakfast. Up. Shower!"

Ginny snatched her coverlet down, and the cold air that traveled Hermione's bare legs made her shiver. Ginny hauled her up by the arms, Hermione helping with a laugh, and pushed her toward the bathroom. 

"No dawdling! I'm starving," Ginny demanded as and shoved Hermione through the door and slammed it behind her. 

Hermione swayed her head with a smile at her friend's enthusiasm. She took in her wild appearance in the mirror as she undressed. She hadn't managed much last night when she had returned to her dorm, other than slipping into nightclothes and falling into bed, sliding into a blissful, content sleep. And her wild curls were paying a dear price. 

Hermione took her time in the shower, working detangling potion through her hair, appreciating the soothing relief the hot water provided. As the warmth soothed away her ache, she thought of the night before. About the look on Draco's face as he had pressed a firm, sweet kiss to her lips that had ignited something deep within her.

She hadn't recognized she was so sensual. She had explored herself more than once, learning her body and what it relished. But the heat written in Draco's eyes had stoked a blaze within her. One that she hadn't truly known she'd been missing since the night of their ritual. She reddened full-on at the memory of her brashness and at how bold she had been. 

Drying her hair with her wand, seizing the sapphire necklace from the sink, she trod from the bathroom in her towel. She felt a sly grin grow across her features as she fingered the hanger of her Gryffindor logo shirt as she shifted through her garments.

She knew Draco would hate it. She laughed to herself as she donned it, knowing he'd mock her for it when they met later. She missed their bickering. The back and forth that had been there since their first year. Grinning, she grabbed her wand and floated down the girl's stairs laughing lightly to herself.

"Merlin, it's about time!" Ginny howled. "I'm starving! I have to eat before the game!" She practically dragged Hermione through the portrait hole toward the Great Hall. 

"Oh, relax, Ginny. You've got hours before the match," Hermione chuckled as they commenced their descent into the depths of the castle. 

"I've got to get out there early. We have strategies to reexamine!" 

Ginny talked about Quidditch the entire path down, and Hermione tuned her out. As the two passed through the Great Hall doors, the loud cacophony of students swelled in her ears. 

The hall was electrified, as it usually was the morning of the first match of the year. The first-years darted about the place wearing brilliant smiles that made Hermione jealous. They were so carefree, somewhat unaware of the horrors that faced the society around them. Hermione felt envious of their views. 

She allowed her eyes to scour the Slytherin table as she and Ginny sat, but his pale blonde locks were nowhere to be seen. 

"Looking for someone," Ginny poked her with a sly laugh. 

"No!" Hermione howled in surprise.

Ginny giggled and babbled on about Quidditch while packing dense foods into her mouth. She told Hermione she had made some obscene bet with Blaise over who would win today. Hermione nodded along when necessary, chuckling when Ginny laughed. Still, her thoughts were on Draco as a smile graced her features.

"Alright, Ron?" someone bellowed, and it drew Hermione's attention to the door. Ron and Harry walked in, the former looking even paler than he regularly did.

Students flanked the two boys as they sat, clapping them on the shoulder and wishing them well. Hermione felt a bit of longing grow over her mood as she gazed on, wishing circumstances could be different. Sure she wasn't a massive fan of Quidditch, but she sensed a yearning in her gut at their shining smiles. Their laughs. Their excitement. Hermione felt a rumble of envy and resentment as she watched Lavender attempt to fill her spot. 

"Hey, Gin, I'm not coming to the game," Hermione said, cutting off whatever Ginny had been chortling about. Her friend's expression dropped into a sad frown, her brows knitting a touch.

"Why not?" 

"I'm sorry, Gin, really. But I can't…" she knew she sounded meek. Her gaze lingered on Harry as she sighed. 

"Okay… but you have to come to the next one," Ginny commanded as she stuffed the last, lone sausage from her plate into her mouth. 

"Promise," Hermione conceded. "I've got to go back to the tower. I'll see you later?" 

"I'll walk you out. I want to get to the pitch before those tossers," Ginny said, inclining her head toward Harry and Ron down the table. 

"Sure," Hermione offered with a small smile as the two girls stood. Ginny laced their arms and pulled her along toward the open double doors. 

"Hermione!" Someone shouted as they passed into the entrance hall. She could hear heated whispers as multiple sets of footsteps neared. 

She and Ginny halted, spun in place only to be met with the gaze of three sixth-year Slytherin girls. Tracey Davis was dragging Daphne Greengrass and Millicent Bulstrode across the corridor. Tracey held a resolute expression on her face as the other two girls appeared to quiver. 

Hermione's breath caught as her heart started to race. She hadn't seen the two girls since that evening. The night they stood on and watched her tortured. The evening one of them had more than likely spared her life at the potential peril of their own. 

"Hermione, hello," Tracey grinned as she drew the additional two girls to a halt just out of arm's reach.

"What do you lot want?" Ginny snarled. 

"This pair would like to chat with Hermione," Tracey said firmly.

"Ha! Fat chance." Ginny's voice was full of resentment as she snapped at the three Slytherin girls before her. She attempted to grab Hermione's arm and drag her away, but Hermione planted her feet, resisting. 

"Ginny, it's okay…" Hermione uttered.

"What? But they…"

"Didn't do anything," Hermione cut in and observed confusion grow over the two panicked girl's faces. Tracey turned to them with a whispered 'see' as Ginny jeered. "I'm fine, Gin. You just focus on the match."

"Fine…" Ginny grumbled. "But if anything happens," she snarled at the three girls clad in green.

"Nothing will!" Daphne screeched and recoiled at the loudness of her voice. Ginny fired one final sneer as she whirled, stomping toward the Quidditch pitch.

"Hermione, I'm sorry to overwhelm you like this," Tracey began. 

"Not as notable of a surprise as Malfoy meeting me in the library," Hermione laughed somewhat, a playful smile spreading across her face.

"I'm sorry about that," Tracey smiled sheepishly. "Draco doing my work for a month seemed like a good idea at the time… He hasn't done any of it." Tracey rolled her eyes then, and Hermione chuckled. That hadn't been part of the bargain of which he had informed her, but she'd unquestionably make sure he followed through now. 

"Well, then," Tracey pronounced as she scurried back, pushing both girls who flanked her forward. "These two have something they wish to say."

Daphne and Millicent both looked sickly. Their eyes shined with a worry expressly written in them, and Hermione's chest clenched.

"Herm… Grang…" Daphne stammered. 

"Hermione," she offered softly, and the two girls nodded somewhat.

"Hermione… we are so sorry," Daphne whispered as Millicent echoed her agony. "We should have stopped her. Told Snape. Should have done anything."

"You did do something," Hermione replied through a meager smile. The two girls looked flummoxed, brows knitting further as they gawked at her. "You saved my life."

"What?" They breathed in unison. 

"If one of you hadn't stopped her, she would have killed me." 

"We just stood there!" Millicent sobbed as tears started to leak from her eyes. 

"Fear and loyalty can make one do… stupid things. But you stopped her."

"And just left you there!" Daphne cried.

"I do not blame either of you for what happened," Hermione said purposefully, offering the two sobbing girls a delicate smile as a tear dropped from one eye. "She forced you. Made you take vows that I hope you didn't want."

"We didn't," Millicent sniffled. "We don't hate you. Truly, we don't."

"Then, I don't blame you."

"Thank you, Hermione. Thank you..." Daphne's face was starting to grow red from her tears as a grateful smile graced her features. 

"Would you three like to join Malfoy and me in the library next week? I'll make sure he does your work," Hermione laughed as Tracey beamed. 

"Yes!" Tracey howled as the other two girls' faces mounted in surprise. "We'll be there! Wednesday night after dinner?"

"Perfect," Hermione nodded. 

"Great! We'll see you then," Tracey punctuated with a sharp nod. She clutched the arms of Daphne and Millicent, both of whom had shock and uncertainty on their features, and drew them away. 

Hermione wiped the residual wetness from her cheek as a small smile lingered on her lips. She appreciated their apology, though it changed nothing of her torture. She couldn't help the glimmer of happiness as she ascended the stairs to meet Draco in the Room.

* * *

Draco had spent the night in the Room, and as he woke, it presented him with a shower. He had quite the laugh at that, the castle telling him he reeked and required a bath. When he stepped out of the door and urged the castle for a place he and Hermione could train their magic together, he had been impressed with what the Room had provided. 

As he opened the humble door, a rather spacious chamber greeted him. Giant pillars draped from the ceiling as the sun, bouncing off the snow outside, glittered into oversized, picturesque windows. An embellished chandelier dangled from the ceiling; its long lines pointing at a deep, plush sofa resting in front of a cold hearth. 

Dummies lined along the leftmost wall with targets on their chests. Some were on wheels, and some planted firmly on the floor. They very obviously resembled Death Eaters, and his body shivered at the image. 

What truly drew his attention was a massive, golden mirror resting in the far corner. As he neared, he noticed the glass was hazy. At first glimpse, the reflection echoed his appearance, standing just as he was. Intense solicitude on his features.

But a flash later, Hermione stepped into the frame, a young, pale, curly-haired blonde child with silver eyes on her hip. She looked radiant, the scars on her face missing, and her form clad in delicate robes that complemented both her figure and her skin tone. The Black family sapphire dangled from her neck, and Draco noticed a matching ring on her left hand. 

She paced to his reflection and slid a hand into his, laying her head on his right shoulder. His image placed a delicate kiss to the crown of her head as he reached out with his left arm and rustled the young boy's hair. A glowing smile grew across the child's face at that. 

He noticed it then. That his left arm was unadorned. That it wasn't marred with darkness. The Dark Mark was missing, and he knew instantly this mirror wasn't revealing the future. He felt sadness rise in his abdomen at the thought. 

His mother and Severus appeared then, lively smiles on their faces, also. But Draco couldn't allow himself to savor it. Sadness burned under his skin, washing away the lingering happiness from the prior night. Seeing how happy they all seemed, how carefree and joyous they appeared, seemed to eat at his soul.

He overheard the door creak open and softly click shut, but he didn't glance away. He couldn't. No matter how troubled he felt, he couldn't take his eyes off the image he so eagerly craved. 

"What do you see?" Hermione whispered as she approached, slipping her hand into his, lacing their fingers as she leaned her head against his shoulder.

"An image not so different from this."

"It reveals what you truly desire," she said softly as she squeezed his hand gently.

"How do you know?"

"This is where the D.A. met last year."

"What do you see?" Draco asked quietly. A rumble of uncertainty rippled through him at the idea of her seeing anything other than him. 

"Not what I used to," she whispered, turning to him with a soft smile. 

A muffled vibration of a canon rang out around the hall then. Hermione dropped his hand and paced to one of the windows.

"The match started," she offered, evidently able to see the pitch from their location.

"Yeah…" 

"Are you not still Seeker?" 

"I fought with Urquhart." 

"I see."

They were both still for some time as she peered out the window. Draco took her in then and groaned at her shirt. Of course, she'd wear a bloody Gryffindor shirt today. 

"Ginny was very excited this morning. Something of a bet between her and Zabini," Hermione laughed. She turned to him with a sweet smile on her face. 

"Hmm," was all he could muster in response. 

"You're talkative today."

"Yeah." 

"Are you okay?" She had concern on her features as her eyes searched his face. 

"I'm fine." 

"You don't seem fine."

"I'm fine, Granger."

"You're lying," she pressed.

"Sod off, Granger," he heard himself growl and immediately regretted it, guilt building in his gut. His mood wasn't her fault. None of this was.

"Fine! I'll sod off!" She shrieked, her wild curls bouncing as she stormed toward the door.

"Granger!" He shouted. She halted with her hand on the knob and he saw her shoulders rise and fall sharply, slowly. 

"You invited me here, Malfoy," she growled, and his surname made his heart hurt. 

"I know. Stay…"

"Then tell me what is wrong."

He felt his face sink into deep sadness as she turned around. He hated that mirror for the way it made him feel. He wanted to smash it into thousands of pieces. 

Hermione contemplated him, a thoughtful expression trying to unfreeze his solid heart. She shifted to him and lifted his arms, running hers around his body until she embraced him tightly. 

"What's wrong?" She whispered into his chest, and he felt as though he wanted to cry. 

"I'll never get it..." 

"Get what?" 

"My desire."

"You don't know that." 

"I most assuredly do." 

"There are things we can do…" Hermione whispered somewhat firmly.

"There's not," Draco murmured.

"We can go to…"

"No."

"Draco, see reason!" Hermione pleaded.

Draco grabbed her upper arms and pushed her back, somewhat harshly. Her face was determined, and he knew arguing with her at the point was futile. 

"Let's just practice your wandless magic," he declared, tugging her along to the unit fireplace, his shoulders sagging in defeat. With a stroke of his hand, the fire sparked to life, then abated as he floated it back. 

"So brilliant," she whispered. 

"Give it a go." 

Draco watched her inhale deeply as a stern look befell her features. The same one she held when she studied, uninterrupted, in the loudest of areas possible. He let a small smile grace his features as he watched her. At her determined stance.

She squared her shoulders, held up a hand, and he could see the concentration on her brow. Her face started to turn somewhat flushed the longer she stood there. Her hand trembling the deeper her face distorted. 

"Relax," Draco spoke softly, and she huffed. "You're going to hurt yourself." 

"Why is it so easy for you?" She said grimly. 

"Haven't a clue. Try it verbally? One step at a time." 

Hermione growled low in her throat as she straightened her arm once more. "Incendo," she spoke loudly, but nothing happened. "Incendo," Hermione said sternly, but no sparks kindled. "Incendo," she shouted, her face full of rage, but the fireplace remained cold. 

"I don't understand," Hermione cried. 

"You've just begun. Relax," Draco insisted. 

"Stop telling me to relax! If you can do this, I can do this!"

"Because you're so much better than me?" Draco growled, a hint of anger coiling in him at her condescending comment. 

"No… I didn't mean it that way," Hermione deflated somewhat, her full lips falling into a frown. 

"Certainly sounded that way, Granger... Let's just work on something else," he offered, and she nodded, concern still fluttering over her features. "Over there, then," Draco instructed her toward the other side of the hall. 

She frowned further as she paced across the room. Draco pulled his wand from his pocket and held it firmly by his side. 

"That's not fair!" Hermione screeched. 

"War won't be fair, Granger. And I'm sure you don't want me to attempt throwing balls of fire at you, right?" 

She huffed and rolled her eyes in defeat, squaring her shoulders as she inhaled a deep, fortifying breath. "Fine. Have at it." 

Draco mulled over the spells he could utilize to train her with. A litany of charms crossed his mind then. Possibly a Rictusempra to tickle her. An Engorgio on her shoes to topple her, perhaps. When his eyes scanned her rigid body, settling on her shirt, he knew precisely the spell to use. 

"Ready?" Draco questioned aloud, and Hermione nodded a sharp affirmative. "Just try to shield it." 

He lifted his wand and pointed it at Hermione's sternum, and a sly smile spread across his face. He thought to himself, Multicorfors, and a colorful jet blasted from his wand. He watched Hermione wave a hand, and then half of her shirt turn green. He cackled loudly as her face turned stern as she eyed her sweater. 

"Really?" She lamented, but he noticed her trying not to smile. 

"It's your fault. You look better in green anyways. Again," Draco offered as a smooth grin formed, firing another Multicorfors at her. 

She managed to deflect it entirely with a Protego charm, nearly missing Draco with the ricochet. 

"Good! Again!" He shouted, firing another color-shifting charm at her. 

They continued on for a time, shooting and blocking spells back and forth until she was nearly out of breath. But Draco didn't relent. If she wanted this power for war, she needed to be able to manage it. To harness it should her wand be lost. By the time her shirt was mostly green, she was huffing in frustration, irritation on her features. 

"This is pointless!" She roared. 

"You're not trying hard enough."

"Not trying hard enough? I'm exhausted!" Hermione panted as she bent at the waist, hands falling to her lower thighs to support herself. 

She was getting unruly. Frustrated. Draco could see it etched over her features. He thought back to the night of her torture, and the explosion of magic that forced through his rage. When the fire roared to life with just his pure passion.

"You'll be exhausted in battle. If you can't even block a simple Multicorfors spell, how do you expect to overcome a Death Eater?"

"I'll have my wand!"

"And if you don't? Will you just give up?"

"I won't give up!" She shouted.

"Just let them kill your parents?" He wasn't screaming, but he heard the poison in his voice. He hated to have to degrade her this way, but if it helped, he could justify it. 

"No!" 

"You're weak!" 

"I am not weak!" 

"You are! You're crying about this being hard! I am nothing compared to the Dark Lord. You're weak!" 

"I'm not weak!" She shouted, and a pulse of visible magic forced from her body, rippling throughout the room. Draco was driven off his feet as ice shards formed, hanging firmly in the air around them. The windows cracked with cold, some shattering with the impact, others frosting over wholly. 

Draco coughed, groaning as he sat up, rubbing water from his face. His body felt frozen; the room's temperature had dropped substantially with her outburst. He noticed the ice that had formed on himself had thawed almost instantly, chilling him as it slid over his body.

Frost had formed on her jeans where her palms sat. Hermione was panting, and he could see the fog of her breaths as she pushed them out. Her face held an invigorated grin as she gazed about. Until her eyes focused on him, panic etching her features. 

"Are you okay?" she shrieked.

"I'm fine, Granger," he said with a crooked grin on his face. Draco shivered as he stood, shaking water from his hair. "That was brilliant." 

He flicked his hand, and the hearth roared to life, heating the space near it instantly. The frost that had formed on the walls about the fireplace began to thaw, trickling to the ground. As the flames heated the room, the ice shards in the air rained to the ground, puddling.

"Ice?" she breathed.

"I think we know why you can't light a fire," he laughed darkly as he paced toward the hearth to warm himself thoroughly. He stood, shivering, in front of the fire for a moment as Hermione joined him. Her brow started to perspire as she approached.

"Opposites, you and I," he laughed. 

"We work well together," she smiled. "The books didn't say anything about this type of magic…" 

"I know…" 

"I've read other books on soul bonds… Some say each experience is unique. Driven by the souls' needs at the time." 

"Can't say I've ever required the ability to hold fire," he laughed. 

"Not yet," she said somewhat solemnly. 

"I'm surprised you're so accepting of such predestination. I remember you quite vehemently renouncing Divination."

"I don't know that I am," she said quietly as she fell limply into the couch. Draco felt his heart clench at her words. "Can you lower the fire? It's so hot in here." 

"Granger, it's still freezing. The windows haven't even thawed." 

"Well, I'm hot," she huffed.

"Unleash a power and grow needier," Draco snickered as he flicked his wrist, the fire falling into low embers that emanated just enough heat to reach the couch. "You're not accepting?" He breathed, turning his head somewhat to gaze at her over his shoulder. 

"It all seems… too planned."

"How could this have been planned?" 

"We've hated each other for years. And here we are, soul-bound? It's… almost unrealistic."

"It's fate, you said so yourself."

"I know, but why now? How could fate have known we needed each other right now?" 

"I don't know, Granger," Draco whispered. He could hear the sadness as it rolled past his lips. He hadn't questioned this; it had felt so right. But it appeared as though she had. "I never hated you," he added quietly as he sat on the opposite end of the couch, leaning his head against the cushion. 

"I don't believe that for a moment."

"It's the truth. Jealous, possibly, but I never hated you."

He turned his head, laying his cheek against the cushion, and eyed her. She was staring into the fire, and her face held a delicate smile that made his heart flutter somewhat. 

"I'm sorry," he said softly. 

"For?"

"Being an arse today." 

"It's fine. You just have to finish our assignment now." She turned to him as a radiant smile spread over her features. "I'm going to get my books. Oh, and we're meeting Tracey, Daphne, and Millicent on Wednesday in the library to study." 

She clapped her hands together with a brilliant laugh at the bewildered face Draco made. As she appeared to skip from the room, he couldn't hold back the laughter escaping from his lips.

* * *

When Hermione re-entered the room, school bag in tow, he was already hunched over an Arithmancy book, chewing on his quill. He hardly lifted his head to acknowledge her as she sat, pulling out her texts. 

Draco seemed somewhat distraught today, Hermione mused. He had been distant, mostly cold throughout the day. Bordering on mean as they practiced. A side of him which she hadn't seen in weeks. She thought that whatever he had seen in the mirror had obviously unsettled him. 

They studied silently for hours, skipping lunch, only conversing when they required advice with questions. Draco had a stern look on his face that echoed his frustrations of the day, so she hadn't bothered him much. 

Somewhile later, Hermione stood, stretching out her thin form. Her arms lifted over her head, and her shirt lifted somewhat to reveal her smooth stomach. She heard Draco chuckle slightly and rolled her eyes at him. 

When a loud blaring rang out again, indicating the Quidditch match was finally finished, Hermione trod to the window. 

"Looks like Slytherin won," she smiled. 

"Well, we are the better house," Draco shrugged with a lift of the corner of his lips. He tossed a book to the table with a sigh. He left the table and dropped gracelessly onto the center cushion of the couch. 

"That's debatable, Malfoy," she said as she sauntered back to the couch, halting just in front of him. 

"It's Malfoy again, eh?" A smooth grin grew across his lips and seemed to dance across her skin. He was obviously past his attitude, his demeanor much softer.

"Only when you're wrong," she laughed lightly. 

His eyebrow perked at that, and Hermione felt goose flesh trail his fingers as they worked around her hips. He had a slightly devious grin on his face that warmed her, more than his hands already were. Draco drew her gently forward until her shins met the softness of the sofa in front of her. 

"I'm wrong?" He echoed calmly. 

"Very," she murmured as she sank into him, slipping one leg on either side of his, straddling his hips. 

"Your shirt doesn't say so," he laughed as she traced her hands around his neck, his smirk falling into a soft smile. 

Hermione kneaded her hands into his neck as he tilted his head backward, shutting his eyes and driving out a long sigh. He always seemed to thoroughly enjoy her ministrations there. Like a pinpoint that released all traces of stress from his body. She felt his hands tighten on her hips and draw her down until their middles met. 

"Draco… you have to talk to me…" she whispered while his hands slid along her hips, settling on her arse. 

"Not today." 

"Draco…"

"Not today, Granger," he growled, laying his head back further into her hands. 

"You have to talk to me eventually." 

"Eventually. But not right now." 

"You're so infuriating sometimes," she huffed, digging her fingers a bit more into his neck. He groaned as her thumbs caressed deep circles down his nape and over his shoulders. 

"Oh? Do I make you… hot, Granger?" He chuckled somewhat heatedly as he gazed up at her with half-lidded eyes. His hand trailed the expanse of her back, and she could feel her core pulse at the heat.

"Very funny, Malfoy." Hermione tried to imitate his fiery smirk as she drew out his surname. 

His hand circled her neck, then, and pulled her gently, yet somehow roughly, until their lips were practically touching. She couldn't help the shuddered gasp she took as the smell of spearmint toothpaste invaded her senses. 

"It's Draco," he whispered before he pulled her head and crashed their lips together. 

Hermione felt her cunt throb at the contact. The heat of his kiss and his body making her insides flame. He was unruly today as he pushed a hand into her hair and tugged it somewhat roughly. She heard herself moan at the tautness and felt him smirk against her lips as he cut the kiss short. 

He lowered his hands to her arse anew with a tight grasp and stood, dropping her unceremoniously onto the couch. Her legs fell apart as he crowded the space between them. The weight of his body enveloped her as he ground himself against her center. She couldn't stop the moan as the friction of her knickers pushed against her peak.

His mouth crashed on hers again, his tongue swiping across her bottom lip. She opened her lips somewhat to allow him access, and he eagerly accepted. Their tongues mingled as he trailed a hand down her body, gripping her hip tightly as he groaned deep in his throat. 

She could feel his firm cock through his trousers, and her body seemed to weep for it. But she could also feel the deep throb of their endeavors the previous night. 

As his hand skimmed the hem of her jeans, she put a hand on his chest, pushing him away slightly. 

"I'm… I ache," Hermione said sheepishly. "From last night."

He sighed, his eyebrows knitting together as he dropped his forehead to her shoulder. He took a few deep breaths, and they tickled her neck as he forced them out. She encircled his head with an arm and racked her fingers delicately through his hair. 

"I'm sorry…" she whispered.

"Don't ever apologize for expressing yourself," Draco said as he lifted up, a gentle smile on his lips. He kissed her tenderly, and it sent a wave of pleasure throughout her body. Substantially more than their heated snogging had. "I'll never force you."

He made to move off her, but Hermione tugged his shoulders. "Lay on me?" 

"What?" Draco asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Lay on me… I like the weight."

"Nutter," he grinned but did as asked. 

She ran her fingers along his clothed back while his force enveloped her. They laid there for a time, quietly, her fingers trailing his back and him pressing sweet kisses to her neck. 

They left each other at dinner, returning to their own dorms afterward. Ginny had been noticeably absent at the table, and Hermione felt wholly awkward as the somber Gryffindors ate their meals. Slytherin's table was rowdy, and it made her want to laugh at the stark difference. 

As November dragged on, she and Draco met frequently. Each Wednesday was spent in the library with their new Slytherin counterparts, studying. Some days Ginny and Blaise would join them to read. Other days they would sit alone in the back of the library holding hands under the table. Shooting warm smiles at each other when no one was around. 

They would meet in the Room of Requirement to train their endowed power every Saturday. She had become rather adept over the past month, able to manipulate the water around her easily. The water within the air and even the sweat that trickled down Draco's forehead. Creating walls of ice of the ambient moisture. She and Draco had managed steam together, by which she had burned herself and had to spend a night in the hospital wing.

Draco's mother visited frequently, and Hermione could see the visible relief when she did. Regardless of how put out he acted, she knew when his mother was away from the Manor, he was grateful. That, for the briefest of time, she wasn't in harm's way. 

As the final week of November rolled around, a deep freeze that seemed to energize Hermione settled into the hills of Scotland. Students chomped at the bit for their upcoming holiday, begging for the term to end. Hermione had owled her parents a few days back, informing them she would be staying at Hogwarts for Christmas. They had been reasonably upset but understood she needed her time to study. 

Hermione had managed to avoid Harry for weeks, somehow. Between their loss to Slytherin, his appointments with Dumbledore, her studies with Draco, and Ginny acting as a barricade, they had yet to speak. And she felt somewhat guilty about it. 

He seemed to grow sadder by the day, based on the fleeting glances they managed over meals. Hermione noticed Romilda Vane hanging around him more, even though he seemed to pay her no mind. They ate meals together, but he seemed much too distracted to care about her presence.

On the final day of November, Hermione sat in the Gryffindor common room alone, forming ice in her hand.

She was thoroughly exhausted, having run herself nearly into the ground as November dragged on. But she told herself it was worth it. Having the ability to protect herself, her parents, and Draco should she need to was worth the fatigue.

"Hermione!" Neville exclaimed as he bounded through the portrait hole, frightening her somewhat. It was unusual to see Neville out this late, well past curfew. "You're here." 

"Neville, is everything alright?" 

"Ron's been poisoned." He said it so suddenly Hermione only had a brief second before her heart sank into her stomach, fear rising in her throat. 

She and Ron hadn't spoken in weeks, but it didn't stop the panic and terror from coursing through her bones. They were best friends, and always would be, regardless of the men and women who came between them.

"What?" 

"He was poisoned. I don't know much, but I just left him and Harry in the infirmary." 

"I… I have to go," Hermione stammered out as she clamored to her feet. 

Hermione raced from the portrait and set her feet into rapid action, sailing to the 4th floor. Utter guilt building within her every step she took. She paused for a moment outside the infirmary doors to collect herself. To prepare for whatever was waiting on the other side. 

When she pushed it open, she was greeted with familiar shaggy, black hair. Harry was perching in a chair next to one of the far beds. Around him, Hermione could only see a set of legs, but her heart stopped briefly. 

"Harry…" she said, taking slow steps toward her mark.

He spooked somewhat and shifted toward her, his brilliant green eyes rimmed with black, his face slightly blotchy. "'Mione… you came." 

"Of course, Harry…" she offered as he stood. 

She caught a glimpse of Ron then, and his face was sunken. Pale. Almost lifeless. She stopped walking for a moment, closing her eyes to stop the tears.

"Does Ginny know?" Hermione asked, trying to close her mind to what was right before her. 

"I asked Neville to find her… Was she in the tower?" 

Hermione shook her head. She knew Neville wouldn't find Ginny. She was with Blaise in some nook. Hermione pulled her wand, and a small blue ball of light floated from the tip. She had intended her otter, but as the Patronus hung in front of her, she knew she was too upset to cast anything more. 

"Find Ginny Weasley and tell her Ron is in the hospital wing. He's been poisoned," Hermione muttered, and the ball seemed to bounce away. 

She heard Harry shuffle toward her and looked up to find him just out of her grasp. 

"What happened…?" she asked quietly. 

"He ate chocolates that Romilda gave me. She put a love potion in them—a bloody strong one. I took him to Slughorn's office… I thought it'd help me get on his good side… He opened a bottle of mead for us after he cured Ron." 

Hermione felt her breath stop momentarily as Harry shared their story. She couldn't bring herself to look over at Ron in fear that she would see him dead. That she would see the last breath he would take.

"He drank it before us and just… just fell over. He started to seize… Slughorn did nothing. But I heard your voice in my mind yelling bezoar." 

"You saved his life, Harry…" Tears leaked down her face then. Harry stepped into her and pulled her into a hug. 

"It's okay, 'Mione. Shh… he'll be okay." 

Harry stroked her hair, but it only made her cry harder. She could have lost a best friend today, and because of her own selfishness and stubbornness, she wouldn't have been able to say goodbye. To talk to him one last time. Hermione clutched Harry's shirt, and he pulled her a bit tighter. 

Ginny burst through the doors then, unshed tears in her eyes. Her face fell in anguish as she walked further in. She hesitated, shaking somewhat as she peered over Ron's body. 

"Gin…" Harry said as she fell onto her knees at Ron's bedside.

He paced to her and pulled her into his arms as she cried, clutching Ron's hand. Ginny sobbed for some time before she fell asleep, her head on the side of Ron's mattress. Harry sighed and released her, standing on a long exhale. 

Hermione had taken a seat behind them, and Harry joined her. 

"'Mione… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry." Harry had tears in his eyes as his fist curled on his knees. 

"Harry, I know you are. I'm sorry I've been so distant." 

"No, you don't need to apologize, 'Mione. You did nothing wrong." 

"I could have talked to you sooner…" 

"It shouldn't have happened. I should have never called you that… word." 

"Under the circumstances, it was somewhat understandable. You weren't calling me that…" 

"I did, though, 'Mione. I… I was so angry when I saw him kissing you. I thought he was forcing himself on you. That Voldemort was telling him to get close to you. I still believe that. Don't think for a second that I don't." 

"He's not a Death Eater, Harry."

"I don't accept that. Who else could have done this?" 

"Slughorn could have gotten that mead from anywhere," she pleaded. 

"Any just anyone could have cursed Katie? He was at the Three Broomsticks that day." 

"There were a ton of people in Hogsmeade, Harry!" 

"I know he did this… and I know he cursed Katie." Harry looked at Ron again, both anger and sadness etched in his features. 

"That's… you don't know that, Harry. He's just a child." 

"With a lot to prove, Hermione." 

"He hasn't been rude to me for months. Years. Harry, he's left us alone for years." 

"You. He's left you alone. I know this was him," he snarled. 

Hermione could see the anger radiating from his skin. He was absolutely outraged, ire printed in every fiber of his being. And to be truthful, she could only hope that this wasn't Draco. That he hadn't tried to kill Ron. 

They sat in silence for a bit before Hermione saw Harry's head sag. He was asleep when she turned to him, but he still looked exhausted. 

"Granger…" she heard whispered behind her. "Granger…" 

She knew it was him, and the delight that normally grew in her stomach at his voice was instead worried, angry. She glanced at Harry and Ginny, but they didn't stir as she stood, walking silently toward the hospital wing doors.

* * *

Draco followed Hermione through the ward and out the double doors, a dread settling over his shoulders. Seeing Ron lying in the infirmary bed hadn't had its typical effect. While he frequently enjoyed the thought of the Weasel in pain, he was wholly concerned that his efforts earlier in the year had ended Ron there. 

Blaise had come back to their dorm some time ago, saying Ginny had gotten a message from Hermione that Ron had been poisoned and was in the infirmary. That she was pretty shaken up. Draco's heart had thumped when he heard, fear coursing through his veins at the image.

It could have been anything, he knew, but something in his gut told him the mead he had dropped on Slughorn's desk at the start of term was the reason.

When his roommates fell asleep, Draco had donned the invisibility cloak and shuffled to the infirmary. Hermione and Potter simply sat watching over a lifeless Weasel for hours until Potter had finally slumped unconscious. He had taken the opportunity, but the tension in her shoulders seemed to grow when he whispered her name. 

Hermione shifted into an alcove just outside the infirmary then, angry stress still visible on her form. He felt the wall of magic hit him as he joined, and he knew the bay was silenced. Somehow that made his heart race faster. 

Hermione pressed her back into the stone, and her hands clenched into fists next to her body. Her breath was somewhat short, and he felt trepidation rise further as he shifted the cloak off his form. 

"Granger…" he started, and she seemed to flinch. "Is Weasel okay?" 

"What do you think? You saw him in there…" 

"What happened?" 

"You tell me," Hermione uttered, and he could see tears rising in her eyes. 

"You… do you think I did this?" 

"Did you?!" She whispered, but it sounded like the loudest noise in the world. 

"Tell me what happened…" 

"He ate chocolate laced with a love potion. Professor Slughorn gave him a tonic to clear it." 

At the mention of Slughorn, Draco's heart stopped. He could hardly breathe as Hermione's eyes searched his face. She appeared to discover something written there because her brow furrowed as she set her shoulders. 

"And he gave him mead as a pick-me-up," she said lower, the anger in her voice causing it to tremble. Draco felt his palms slicken with sweat. He was shaking as her nostrils flared. 

"Did you do this?" she asked, her tone sterner than he had heard in weeks. 

"I…" 

"Did. You. Do. This?" Hermione punctuated each word with a pause. A pause that arrested his heart with each drawn silence. 

"It wasn't meant for him…" 

"You said you'd stop!" Hermione roared as tears sprang from her eyes. Draco attempted to reach out for her, but she flinched away from him. "You said you'd stop! And now Ron's half dead!" 

"I did stop!" 

"Then how is Ron lying in the hospital wing?"

"I gave Slughorn that bottle at the start of term! I couldn't simply take it back!" 

"You should have! You should have! Ron could have died! How could you do this?" 

"You two haven't spoken in weeks…" Draco winced as the asinine sequence of words escaped his lips. It was the worst thing he could have ever possibly spoken. He could have apologized. Told her he was an idiot. And yet he chose jealousy. Her eyes went wide as tears flowed uncontrolled down her cheeks. 

"That doesn't matter! He's one of my best friends! And you could have killed him! If Harry hadn't acted so quickly, he'd be dead!" She shouted the last word, and it made his entire body flinch. 

"I don't mean it…" 

"It doesn't matter what you meant." 

"I'm sorry…" Draco whispered, taking a step closer to her to calm her. To try to soothe her with his touch.

"Don't come near me," she spat, virulence her in a tone that dropped fear further into his gut. "Just leave." 

"Hermi…"

"No!" 

"I'm sorry…" 

"I can't look at you... Just leave." 

"I…"

" _Leave_!" She shouted as she sank to the floor, and he felt frost permeate the air. She drew her knees into her chest as she sobbed, and it almost appeared as though she was crying ice. 

"I'm sorry…" Draco whispered again as he slipped the cloak over his body, sweeping from the alcove as tears punctured his eyes. 

Never in his life did he think he'd be crying over hurting Weasel. It wasn't the thought of Weasel lying on this death bed, but the notion that Hermione now thought he was evil. That he had betrayed her and was a liar. That he believed in the Dark more than their bond. 

Tears skated from his eyes as he halted on the 4th-floor landing. He couldn't stomach going back to his dorm where prying eyes would cause questions. Where Crabbe laid in wait to pull him under. Where he couldn't show emotion in fear of his mother being murdered. 

He wandered up the stairs, pacing the corridor in front of Barnabus the Barmy. A meager door appeared, and he fell inside, finding only a bed and a fireplace. He let himself sink onto the bed and weep tears he had been holding inside for weeks.


	8. Out of Hiding, into the Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovies! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter. I'm hurling toward the finish line of my story Remembering Granger, so that I can devote all my creative time to this story. We've got a ways to go before this one is wrapped. 
> 
> As you read, keep in my how distraught Draco is and the fact he is merely a teen. Wanting nothing more than to slide under everyone's radar.
> 
> TW: mentions of near death, fighting
> 
> I do not own Harry Potter in any way, and I make no money from this story. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy. Let me know your thoughts!

Ron spent four days in the hospital wing after his accident. Lavender had visited every day, and while she had been initially upset with Hermione's presence, it hadn't lasted long. 

It had taken quite a bit of time to convince Lavender she was no longer interested in Ron, but toward his final day in his infirmary bed, they were able to hold a conversation. Rather inane conversations of clothes and makeup, but she had to try.

Hermione knew she no longer cared for him as she had in the past, but she missed his warmth as a friend. His silly comments, his loyalty. The late-night laughs he, Harry, and herself shared in the common room. Hermione couldn't stand the rift between her and Ron and made an effort to end the hostility toward his _girlfriend_ to make peace.

And Lavender seemed to truly complete him, something Hermione knew now she would never have been able to do. Lavender talked him up, boosted his ego. She also gave him the undivided attention he craved so desperately. They melded on an emotional level, somewhat less mature than Hermione would expect, but it worked. They were both quite goofy and shared laughs more often than not. 

And if Ron preferred her company, who was Hermione to judge. 

When Ron was discharged from the infirmary, days seemed to settle back into place. She, Ginny, Harry, and Ron started eating meals together again. Visiting Hagrid when they could. Relaxing in the common room as their time allotted. Studying in the library.

But Hermione could feel a bitter longing deep within her. She had been jittery, to say the least. More often than not, people around her complained of drafts or the old castle not being warm enough. Ginny had even noted how cold her hands had felt one evening in the common room.

And to make matters worse, he hadn't even shown himself. 

It had been twelve days since the last she saw Draco. The night he had confessed that it was he who brought the poisoned mead into the school. That he was directly responsible for the near-death of one of her best friends. 

She felt sickness rise in her every time the memory surfaced. Both at how Draco had handled the situation and her personal mishandling. How she hadn't allowed him to speak, to reveal his side. How he had taunted her over her estrangement with Ron. How she had all but froze him out of the alcove as she cried frozen tears.

The morning after she had immediately mourned not hearing him out. Then he vanished again. No trace of him in classes. No sight of him in the library or the Great Hall. She had even spent more time in the dungeons, lingering in potions class under Slughorns' gaze, to see if she could catch him.

She had traversed the 7th-floor corridor multiple evenings, asking the castle to see him. To grant her access to what had become _their_ room. But it didn't present her a doorway. She had pleaded for a place to practice her magic, but the wall had remained cold.

When she noticed Crabbe and Goyle appear just under the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy one night, she wanted to cry. He had mentioned the twilight of their ritual that the pair had been running checks on him. That they were scouting for their fathers, and ultimately Voldemort.

And the notion that he had lapsed back into darkness had ripped her heart out.

And the tension had spread in her bones. Anger swirling with sadness each morning she woke, and each night when she tried to sleep. 

And so here she found herself, irritability descending the stairs from the 7th floor, trying to stifle yawns and screams on her way down to the library.

"Granger!" She heard Mclaggen shout as her feet hit the third-floor landing. He was several levels up, and she darted toward the library to escape him.

She quickly slipped into the large room and stomped to the stacks, hiding behind one as she heard the door open after her. She glanced around the shelf and saw Cormac gazing about, a perplexed look on his face. As if the most reasonable point for her to hide wasn't behind a stack. 

She rolled her eyes as he exited the library, confusion still covering his features. He had been hanging around her more, trying to converse with her. And she'd taken any excuse to get away from him, even accepting an invitation to watch Ginny practice Quidditch. 

Sneering to herself with a roll of her eyes, she found a secluded corner of the library for residence. She and Draco's double assignment was due tomorrow, and she had little more than half of it done. There was a deep rod of tension in her shoulders as she pulled her books out and began to study. 

Without him.

"Hello, Granger," Blaise drawled somewhile later as he settled into the chair across her. He was smiling softly as he eyed her, and Hermione remarked Ginny was nowhere to be seen. 

"Hello, Blaise," Hermione offered with a somewhat disoriented smile, bafflement adding a third surge of emotion in her gut. 

"Mind if I join you?" 

"You already have."

"So I have," he replied with a genuine smile as he unloaded his school work onto the table. 

He didn't create significant noise after that, other than occasionally clearing his throat. He was a rather proficient study partner, but his presence still worried Hermione. She hadn't spoken to Blaise in weeks, and after her encounter with Draco, she assumed she wouldn't. But there he sat across from her, a soft smile on his face as he simply read. 

When the clock ticked past eleven that evening, she breathed to herself, closing her books as she yawned. She'd succeeded in finishing their assignment, and had given it a once over. It unquestionably did not meet the high-quality standards she typically set for herself, but it would have to do. She could muster no more as her fatigue tried to drown her in sleep.

When her hand covered her mouth to stifle another yawn, she saw small strands of her hair tangled in her fingernails and frowned. A sadness fell deeper over her as her mind sought to replay their first night together in the library.

"I'm calling it a night," she offered quietly, trying not to frown as she packed her books. 

"Good idea. It's late," Blaise replied, his face littered with exhaustion. 

He packed his books slowly, eyebrows high on his head, and his eyes blinking somewhat rapidly. She watched him try to cover a yawn as he shouldered his bag and wondered why he would stay so late when he was clearly tired.

When he stood, his arm extended out to her, and she knit her brows somewhat. It wasn't unusual for him to extend an arm, but it was typically to Ginny. When they were leaving the library alone. Nevertheless, she accepted, slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow. 

They walked in silence the short distance from the double doors to the stairs. She yawned a few times and watched him turn his head to do the same. She wondered if he thought he was being smooth, that she truly didn't notice how tired he was.

When they paused momentarily at the steps, Hermione felt words boil inside of her. She could sense the craving to inquire about Draco burning on the tip of her tongue. 

"Hey, Blaise… how has…" she started, but he interjected quickly.

"Granger, I was wondering if you'd like to accompany me to Slughorn's Christmas party?" 

Hermione felt stunned for a moment, mouth falling open as she gawked at him. Had he really just asked her to accompany him to the Christmas party? Surely this was a hoax. Surely he should be inviting Ginny.

"But… Ginny?"

"Duty comes first," he said quietly, his face hardening somewhat for the first time that night. 

And Hermione thought she may have known what he meant. And for some reason, her stomach fluttered with the thought. That maybe this was Draco's way of seeking her out. Of keeping her safe. 

"Sure… okay," Hermione offered, and Blaise just nodded. 

"Then good night, Granger," he spoke, a small smile on his face as he bowed and descended the stairs to the dungeons.

It took her hours to fall asleep that night. Her mind mulling over her new date and her old, and her half-hearted assignment. How Draco was, and what he might be doing. 

She was sure it had been Draco asking Blaise to escort her to the dance. He would have no other motive. And a willing escort in Ginny.

She woke late the next morning, narrowly missing breakfast. The Great Hall had been almost entirely abandoned as she rushed in, grabbed a few slices of toast, and sprinted toward Ancient Runes.

Students were already mingling at their desks as she skid through the door. Professor Babbling was chatting with Padma, her hand on a stack of rolled scrolls which Hermione knew were other student's pristine papers. When the Ravenclaw girl bowed her head and pranced away, Hermione approached the professor's desk, a bit of unease in her gut. 

"Good morning, Professor."

"Good morning, Ms. Granger! I trust you've had a good week?" 

"Yes, ma'am. I've my… our assignment. Mine and Malfoy's," Hermione said, holding out the rolled scroll. 

"Mr. Malfoy handed your assignment in days ago, Ms. Granger," Professor Babbling responded with a confused face. "Quiet a wonderful analysis, truly. Top marks." 

"Top marks?" Hermione breathed, utter bafflement befalling her features.

"Yes, Ms. Granger. I would think you knew your partner was submitting your homework?"

"We… we must have had a misunderstanding," Hermione said somewhat dumbly. "Thank you, Professor."

"Of course, you both deserve it," the auburn-haired professor smiled. 

Hermione tracked to her seat, confusion the only thought she possessed. He had turned in their assignment? And they had gotten top marks? But he hadn't even attended class. Hadn't shown his face. Had seemingly been holed away in the Room of Requirement again, allowing her no access to see him.

And it appeared he may not have fallen back into darkness like she assumed.

Hermione floated in a haze of distraction for the balance of the day. She hardly paid attention to her remaining classes. When Ginny tapped her shoulder later that night for dinner, it startled her. Hermione realized slowly she had been squatting in the Gryffindor common room, a book open and abandoned on her lap. 

Ginny dragged her along, chattering about something Hermione simply couldn't focus on. It seemed as though she blinked and they were walking through the doors of the Great Hall, and falling into the bench seats with Harry and Ron. 

"Where's Lavender?" Ginny questioned, loading her plate with food. 

"Broke it off with 'er" Ron replied as he shoved a chicken leg in his mouth. 

"Why?"

"Too clingy, that one. Just wouldn't shut up," Ron shrugged. 

"Ronald! That is awful," Hermione chimed in, the world finally sharpening around her the more she ate.

"She wouldn't! That or she'd try to suck my face off! Bloody annoying." 

"Well, this should make the dorm more pleasant," Hermione bemoaned while Ginny and Harry chortled. 

"'Mione, I know old Slugs has a Christmas party comin' up. I'm free to be your date now."

"Because you assume I cannot get one, Ronald?" Hermione sneered. 

"Oh, I mean. I'm sure you can. But who's better than me?" 

"For your information, I have a date. Thank you very much," Hermione punctuated her tone, thumping him repeatedly on the arm with a book. 

"Ow! Okay! Okay! Bloody women," Ron bemoaned as he rubbed his shoulder, both of their other counterparts laughing loudly. Hermione noticed his eyes catch attention to something, his brows knitting instantly. "Oi, mate. Looks like Katie is back," Ron continued, pointing to where Katie Bell stood down the aisle. 

Harry's back went almost immediately rigid, his head swiveling dangerously quick. He was up, his Potions book clutched in his hand before Hermione could stop him. 

"Why'd you tell him?" Hermione screeched at Ron. 

"Why not? He needs to talk to her."

"She just got back! She shouldn't be harassed right now. She was cursed. I'm sure she doesn't want to relive it!"

Hermione looked back at Harry then, as he stood speaking with Katie. She had a pained expression on her face that Hermione could wholly understand. The appearance of someone being interrogated about their worst memories. Someone asking you to relive utter agony for their benefit. 

Katie's eyes bulged somewhat, and Harry turned, his face crumpling into absolutely rage and disgust. Hermione followed his eye line and saw him. 

Draco was standing in the doorway, eyes rounded in shock as he appeared to shake. He seemed paler than usual, and his hair was shaggy and unkempt. He looked thin, as though he hadn't eaten in days. And he might not have. He was clad in only a white shirt and a fresh set of trousers, his tie and robes missing. 

Draco took a few steps backward, his eyes locked on to Harry, before he turned and rushed from the room. Wholly unnoticed by all but six individuals in the Great Hall. 

Hermione witnessed Blaise bolt upright from the Slytherin table in her peripheral. His eyes held a sheer panic as their gaze met. A fear that Hermione felt sear into her gut.

Harry stomped through her and Blaise's connected eyesight, in a flash of red face and messy black hair. He was hunting toward the door, anger written in every line of his face. His hand clutched the Potions book so tight his knuckles were white. 

"Harry! No!" Hermione shouted, but he charged from the Great Hall without looking back.

* * *

Draco felt utterly frozen as he stepped into the Great Hall. It had been less than ten seconds before his sights fixed upon Katie Bell talking with none other than the Boy Wonder Harry Potter.

Two weeks. He had holed himself away for nearly two weeks to prevent something like this from occurring. 

He had been skulking mostly in the Room of Requirement since the night of Weasel's poisoning, working on his and Hermione's assignment. 

When she had paced the expanse of the 7th-floor corridor, the Room had shown him. On his third night alone, a small window had materialized next to the door, and she had saturated it. She paced for some time the first night, with anger and sorrow written on her face, which seared into his skin. 

He couldn't bring himself to open the door. To let her in and speak to her. She was better off not finding him. Not striving to help him. He had nearly killed one of her friends. And although it was the Weasel, he couldn't shake it. 

Couldn't stop the feeling that she was better off without him. The thought that one day she'd smarten up and realize what a hassle he was burned under his flesh, and he cried himself to sleep most nights.

When he had returned to his dorm briefly, Crabbe had besieged him with questions. And when he snapped out that he had been in the Room, the thuggish boy had simply grinned broadly. He had praised Draco for his dedication to the cause, spending long nights working for the Dark Lord. He had even offered his and Goyle's service again.

That's when the two goons started standing watch outside in the 7th-floor corridor anew. And the room stopped showing Draco the window Hermione had paced back and forth through.

It had sickened Draco thoroughly to think about his mission now. To think about killing Dumbledore and letting Death Eaters into the castle. To think about being the catalyst of war, underneath the thumb of an evil tyrant.

And to imagine that she thought he had fallen back into darkness.

When the eleventh day of his self-imposed isolation thumped behind his eyes, he grew weary of seeing the room alone. He thought he could smell a lingering scent of vanilla on the pillows. The lavender in the air as the fire roared. Strands of her wild hair littered across the couch cushion, where he had laid her down and kissed her. Where they had spent long nights cuddled together reading.

And this morning, he had decided enough was enough. He wouldn't hide anymore. He wouldn't be the coward his father always told him he was. He had to see her. Had to explain himself and what had happened.

Until that led to him standing within the Great Hall's doorway at dinner, watching Potter's angry emerald eyes target him. Looking as though if sight could gut a person, he would do it endlessly. 

His heart stopped for what felt like countless moments before he felt his feet carrying him backward. He was retreating without any deliberate thought of it. Potter's face seemed to grow redder with every step he took. 

"Harry! No!" Draco heard Hermione's voice ring through the hall, louder than any other, as he fled up the stairs. 

His feet carried him to the next floor up, trying to find a quiet place to disappear. To hide away from Potter until he calmed. Or until Draco starved to death, whichever came first. He lamented himself in his choice to leave the invisibility cloak in his dorm room after changing clothes.

He could feel the tears welling in his eyes as he eyed the second-floor girl's bathroom. He'd learned it was vacant after Hermione's torture due to some ungodly bemoaning ghost. But it seemed like the best option as he heard heavy footsteps echoing throughout the empty hall behind him. 

He ducked inside and shuffled to the sink. The reflection that stared back at him was one of utter inadequacy. His cheeks were sunken in, his eyes rimmed with black from lack of sleep. He could see the red veins in his eyes as they welled with tears. 

The door crashing open behind him sent fear into his bones. He saw Harry appear over his shoulder in the mirror, his face painted with the lines of war.

"I know you cursed her, Malfoy. And you poisoned Ron!" Harry bellowed.

"I didn't mean it," Draco pleaded as he turned slowly toward Harry. 

"Bullshit!" 

"I didn't mean it, Potter!" 

Harry withdrew his wand, and Draco couldn't stop the ripple of terror that coursed through him. He didn't want to fight Potter. Didn't want to harm another one of Hermione's friends. Hell, he didn't want to fight anyone anymore. But that clearly wasn't an option. 

Draco lifted a hand and forced a wall of fire between the two of them, the barrage of flames drowning out all other sounds. The stalls ignited as they were wrapped in flames. Draco was merely attempting to throw Potter off; to make him retreat at the improbability of the action. 

But he could scarcely see the shock in Harry's face before a blue bolt of light shot through the flares, barely missing him and smashing open a few sinks behind him.

Water began to rain from the shattered faucets, cutting the flames down to nothing. Potter shot another spell, and Draco dodged, moving to shield himself behind the stalls. 

"I don't want to fight, Potter!" 

"Be a man!" Harry shouted as another spell shattered a mirror and the sink below it, drenching Draco in water. 

He held his hand up, and nothing happened. The water raining from the sinks around him seemed to belittle any fire magic he could muster on a consistently empty stomach, little to no sleep.

Draco pulled his wand and shot a stunning spell toward the door, around the stalls. He didn't want to hurt Potter. He didn't want to harm anyone. But he felt deep in his gut that if he didn't try to stun his adversary, he might not leave this girl's lavatory alive.

"Potter, you're better than this!" 

"You don't know me, Death Eater," Harry spat. 

It took only seconds, but Draco saw a flash of red sailing toward him underneath the stalls. It crashed into his leg, just above the ankle, and he felt the skin split. He could feel the surface tear up his calf as blood started to seep out. He retched at the pain almost instantly and staggered out from the perceived protection of the stalls. 

He saw Potter step around the stalls and sought to lift his wand. But in his weakened disposition, nausea pervading his gut, clouding his vision, Potter was faster.

" _Sectumsempra!_ " Harry exploded, and the spell hit Draco directly in the chest, throwing him back into the pooling water. He heard his head smack against the tile as water splash against his face, invading his ears.

It felt like knives were being jabbed out of his chest, ripping open his flesh from the inside. He couldn't breathe as he started to gag, blood pooling in his mouth. 

His body began to seize as red soaked through his shirt, seeping into the water below him. A blackness grew from the outer edge of his eyes, and he knew this was it. He was going to die here on this bathroom floor, covered in pipe water and his shame. 

And he knew he deserved it. 

"Harry, what did you do?!" _Her_ voice purred through the water in his ears. 

And a moment later, he could see a hazy vision of her. She looked as though she was glowing, her eyes soft as she gazed over him. She was smiling down at him, and he thought he could hear her voice saying his name. Declaring he would be okay. But her lips never moved. They just held a radiant smile as pressure built in his head.

Another shadowed figure filled his view, just seconds before the tunnel of darkness surrounded him. He could hear his godfather's voice but couldn't make out his words as the world faded completely, and his vision went black. 

*****

"Mr. Malfoy," he heard a soft woman's voice sing. "Mr. Malfoy, can you hear me?" 

Draco groaned somewhat as he squinted open his eyes. His vision was hazy, but he could make out the smiling face of Madam Pomfrey hovering over him. 

"Excellent, Mr. Malfoy. Welcome back," she beamed. "Let's get you sitting." 

The medi-witch flicked her wand, and Draco felt a gentle flutter of magic course over him. His upper half lifted from the cot, the pillows underneath him fluffing as his body was pushed back slightly. He slumped into the cushions somewhat as he took in his surroundings, his vision clearing more. 

His eyes landed on his mother, sitting on the edge of the chair next to his bed. She looked exhausted. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, a black ring under each eye that rivaled what he had seen in his own reflection. He could hear the deep inhale she took as she watched him.

"Mother," he said quietly. 

"Hello, darling," she sighed, moisture swelling in her eyes.

"Back?" Draco choked out. 

"You are in the hospital wing. Do you remember why you are here?" Madam Pomfrey questioned.

It took a few moments for the fog over his memory to disappear. But when it cleared, he saw visions of deranged Potter hurling curses at him in the bathroom. The look of pure hatred that had been on his Potter's face as he tried to kill him. 

"Potter…"

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy. You were hit with quite the curse. Thankfully, Professor Snape was able to reverse the effects before they were… grave." 

Draco simply nodded slightly, his brow knitting in anger as the memories swirled in his mind. 

"I have had you under medical sedation while your body healed. How do you feel?"

"Sore."

"To be expected. But nothing else?" 

"No." 

"Excellent. Your vitals also look stable. One more night, and I think you can be released. I'll let you two catch up," Madam Pomfrey said in a quiet tone, her face holding nothing but concern as she stepped out of his curtains. 

His mother shifted then, sitting on the edge of his small infirmary cot. Her eyes held moisture as she inhaled deeply, blowing out a long labored breath. She sat a soft hand on his face with a delicate, relieved smile.

"Good morning, darling," she chuckled somewhat awkwardly as a tear slipped from her eye. 

"I'm alright, Mother," he offered, trying to comfort her. 

"I'm so happy to have you back, my dragon. I've been so worried." 

"How long have I been out?"

"7 days, 13 hours, and 36 minutes," his mother responded softly as another tear fell down her opposite cheek. She took a shaking breath, swallowed thickly, and ran her hand along his forehead to clear the fringe from his eyes. "Your hair is so long dear, you should allow me to cut it."

Draco knew his mother was deflecting; he could hear it in her tone. Trying to make the best of him laying in a cot that he likely nearly died in. 

"I'm sorry, mum…" 

"Draco, do not apologize…"

"But I should. I deserve to be here. I deserved what Potter gave me." 

"No! You do _not_ deserve death. He should be next to Pansy in Azkaban, rotting for what he did to you!" 

"I nearly killed his best mate, Mother. And that girl…"

"And he is no judge. Though, he seems to wish to be an executioner." 

Narcissa's face had hardened significantly as their conversation progressed. He could see the fear and the disgust written in her features, and it only served to sadden him further. That he was the reason she had to endure such anguish. 

"Severus has given _Mr. Potter_ ," she spat his name, "detention every Saturday until the end of the year. Requiring he stay during Christmas, as well, to clean the castle completely."

"It doesn't seem enough…" 

"I agree, dear." 

"Do people know?" 

"No. The Headmaster has seen fit to sweep _this_ particular occurrence under the proverbial rug." 

Draco simply nodded in response. Of course, Dumbledore would shelter his Golden Boy. Would keep his indiscretions out of the public eye. 

He and his mother sat quietly for some time, until the single tears that fell from her cheeks subsided, her breathing returning to normal. 

"Blaise has visited. He's been distraught over you," Narcissa added. 

"Mum…" he started, and her face softened somewhat at his tone. "Has she…?"

"I have not seen her dear, but Poppy tells me she has visited." That seemed to clear her mood, a soft smile falling over her face as she patted his hand. "She is very clever, that girl. I have been here rather a lot, and still, we have not crossed paths." 

It made his heart jump somewhat at the prospect that Hermione had visited. That she didn't despise him. He remembered seeing her face right before his world went black, but he couldn't be sure it was real. It had been much too visionary, and in his mind, it seemed like a dream. 

He and his mother caught up then, speaking about truly nothing of importance as the day dragged on. He wanted to sleep, to ask her to leave. But the color rejoining her cheeks, her somewhat cheery disposition returning as they chatted, had sobered him. 

This time was more for her than he. She had been watching over him for nearly eight days, likely hoping he would live. Hoping she wouldn't have to bury her only son. Wouldn't be left almost entirely alone in this cruel, sadistic world.

When Madam Pomfrey came back later that evening, offering them dinner, his mother stood and met her at the curtains. 

"Darling, I will allow you your rest and to eat in peace. I must return to the Manor... I will visit you tomorrow night." 

"You don't…"

"I will visit you tomorrow night," Narcissa interjected with a stern face as she turned back to him. 

"Okay, mum..."

"Poppy, thank you for _everything_ you've done," Narcissa said, enveloping the Healer's hands in her own. 

Her inflection didn't escape him, and the solemn, yet somehow happy, expressions both women wore didn't miss his gaze.

"You are welcome, 'Cissa. Be safe, dear. I am here should you need me..." The Healer patted his mother's hand with a soft smile. 

They looked nearly chummy, and Draco wondered what could have transpired as he lay comatose. His mother placed a delicate kiss on his cheek and then nodded, a deep inhale filling her lungs as she smiled softly and left his curtains.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Malfoy?" The nurse said as she fluffed his pillow with her wand, a tray of food floating onto his lap.

"I feel alright." 

"That is a good sign, dear. Would you like some sleep potion?" 

"No, thank you," he offered as he picked at the food. 

"Ms. Granger also refused the sleep potion," she grinned with a somewhat sly laugh. 

"Oh…" 

"Woke up from her medical coma before she was ready, that one. So stubborn."

"That… that sounds like Granger," Draco added, a bit confused as he pushed the tray of food away. He hadn't an appetite.

"She visited," the Healer offered, nudging her nose at the stack of papers and books on his bedside table that he hadn't noticed. 

"Has come by every night. Quiet sneaky. I never hear her enter, but she's always asleep by your bedside during my nightly rounds. You be sure to thank her, Mr. Malfoy," the medi-witch commanded, and Draco saw a knowing look in her eye.

He sighed deeply as he closed his eyes, a small flutter of happiness swelling in his thoughts as the medi-witch removed the tray from his lap. He couldn't help the tiny smile that graced his lips as Madam Pomfrey snickered somewhat, leaving him alone with a tranquil "goodnight."

He drifted into a restless sleep, his thoughts swirling between Potter's actions, his own inactions, and Hermione.

Some while later, loud snoring rang through the fitful dream he was having. When it sounded again, he startled awake only to be met with the sight of Hermione asleep in the chair next to his bed. 

She was wheezing, rather loudly, as she sat, head slumped on her shoulder, mouth wide, hair utterly wild. He felt a laughter bubble inside him as he regarded her. It was the most stunning scene to watch her sleeping, a book open on her lap, her face littered with beauty as she slept.

"Granger…"

* * *

"Granger…" 

"Granger… wake up." 

Hermione felt herself ripped from her sleep as her eyes snapped open. Draco was gazing at her with a soft smile from his tiny infirmary cot, mere centimeters away, and her heart began to pound.

It felt like it was still a dream, looking over at him and not seeing his pale face shrouded in agony or lifeless with comatose. It had been hard for Hermione to sit at his bedside every night, just watching over him, hoping that he would wake. 

When Harry had rushed out from the Great Hall eight days ago, utter vehemence written on his face, it took her long, drawn moments before her body set in motion. Blaise met her at the door, fear pervading his features as she commanded him to seek out Snape.

When she heard loud crashes from the second-floor girl's bathroom, her heart seemed to stop, her feet freezing their motion as the doors loomed over her. She hadn't been back in the room since the night of her torture, and her body seemed stunted by fear. However, when sounds stopped tumbling through the door, her utter fear over either boy being harmed lured her into motion. 

When her eyes landed on a shaking Harry, cowered against the wall next to the door, holding his knees and rocking back and forth, her heart sank. When she rounded the stalls, robes soaked to her knees with wetness, she nearly fainted. 

Draco was lying in a pool of blood-stained water, his chest split open and littering blood over his body. It was one of the worst moments of her life. Seeing him choking on his own blood, staring up at her lifelessly as she tried desperately to help him. The smile on his lips as blood dripped out of his mouth had been earth-shattering. 

When the color in his eyes started to fade, and his lids dropped slowly together while Snape attempted to heal him, she had retched. She had been too late; hadn't moved quickly enough to stop an all-out onslaught of enemies. 

Something she could have prevented if she had been honest with Harry weeks ago when he discovered them kissing in the infirmary wing.

"Granger?" Draco's voice sounded, and it played like an orchestra over her skin, pulling her from her reverie.

"Draco, you're awake…" she uttered softly, her hands trembling as she closed her abandoned book, placing it on the floor beside her. 

"Thanks to you," he laughed. 

"What?"

"You were snoring like an erumpent. Rather rude of you to wake a patient, Granger," he chuckled again. 

She couldn't help herself. The tears swelled and dropped from her eyes before she could stop them. Her sobs saturated the stale air between them, her breath catching each time she inhaled. She hadn't cried yet. She hadn't allowed herself to, knowing the moment she did, it would become real. 

"Hey… I was kidding. I'm fine," Draco said, his brows knitting with concern. 

_He_ was concerned. For her. He was lying in a hospital bed, one he had been in for eight full days, and he was worried for _her_. Tears kept falling as she nodded her head, unable to speak through her sobs.

"Come here," he said, holding out a hand to her. 

"I don't... want to hurt you…" Hermione muttered through her weepings.

"Come here," he commanded, shuffling slowly over to permit her room to lay. 

Hermione stood slowly and shuffled the few steps toward the bed. When she sank onto the mattress, hesitation rose sharply in her gut. Draco opened his arms somewhat, a soft smile and sheer concern still on his features. 

She lowered slowly into his arms, and the tension she had been holding for weeks started to slither away. Clutching his shirt, she buried her head into this chest as tears began to fall anew.

When her fingers skimmed his collarbone slightly, she heard him sigh as he pulled her in closer. She felt as he pressed a light kiss to the crown of her head, the lingering tension slipping from her form. 

"You almost died," she cried. "I… I thought you were dead."

"I thought I was dead," he said quietly, stroking her hair. 

When Hermione's tears lessened a few long minutes later, she pulled back from him on the mattress. When their eyes met, he was gazing at her with a nostalgic, yearning smile that calmed her somewhat. 

"You're the one hurt… I should be comforting you…" Hermione said as she let out a watery laugh.

"You are," he said, his hand falling to graze her cheek with a thumb.

"Draco… I'm sorry for blaming what happened to Ron on you."

"You were right to. It was my fault."

"Did you do it on purpose?"

"No…" he whispered and went silent for a moment. "I got that mead to Slughorn in September. I overheard you say Filch couldn't detect potions..." 

"What was he to do with it?"

"Share it with Dumbledore."

They were both quiet for some time as he closed his eyes. Hermione could see the pain written on his face as he took shallow breaths. 

"I tried to get it back once," Draco started again, his eyes still closed. "After I had the cloak. But it wasn't there… I assumed he had already given it away."

"What if he had…? What if Dumbledore had drunk it?"

"I don't know…"

They both fell quiet again, and Hermione couldn't help the mixture of unease and contentment that washed over her. His arms were strong around her, and she had missed it dearly. Had been longing for it since the last day of November. But his continued profession of guilt lingered heavily over her psyche.

"I'm sorry…" Hermione whispered somewhile later, breaking their silence.

"Stop apologizing."

"I'm so glad you're alive, Draco…"

Draco's eyes finally opened, meeting hers with an utter softness. He pulled Hermione in somewhat and ran a soft thumb across her face. When he lifted her chin slightly, her breath caught. A second later, his lips pillowed softly against hers, and she felt her heart race. 

"Hi," he whispered against her lips when he pulled back. 

"Hi…"

"We've got to stop meeting like this," he chuckled, and Hermione let out a watery laugh. 

"It's late… I should let you sleep. Before Madam Pomfrey sees me." 

"She already knows you're here," he laughed. 

"How?" Hermione asked, honestly shocked. 

"You're not as smooth as you think, Granger. I assume she's known about us since you were in my position." 

"How could she know?! I've been so careful!" 

"Sleeping next to my bed, careful?" Draco laughed as Hermione's face rose in slight shock. "I imagine she's seen both our chests now…" he trailed off. 

His finger traced along her clavicle and halted in between her breasts. He laid his palm flat over where the rune hid underneath her shirt, his eyes somewhat sad. 

"I'm sorry, Hermione."

His use of her given name and the earnestness in his voice made her quiver somewhat. She swallowed thickly as his eyes met hers, shining with unshed tears. She trailed her hand down his arm and laid her palm against the backside of his hand.

"I know you are, Draco." 

"Stay with me?" 

All she could manage was a nod as she leaned forward and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. His hand trailed back up her collarbone and around her neck, settling a heat on her nape. 

He kissed her sincerely then, and she could feel his tears slide between their lips. She'd never needed the salted taste of his kiss more. 

"Good night, beautiful."

"Good night, Draco," Hermione responded as they both drifted into peaceful sleep.


	9. Mighty Fine Night for a Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovies!
> 
> I'm back on this story now. Remembering Granger is finished so I have time to thoroughly think through this story so it isn't "full of cliches" as a rando commented.
> 
> I hope this was worth the wait.
> 
> I do not own Harry Potter and make no money from posting this story.

"Ms. Granger," a faint voice spoke as the sunny sand of the shore on which she perched started to shake. "It is morning time, Ms. Granger," the voice vocalized again as Hermione's eyes fluttered apart.

Her morning vision was met with the sweet smile of Madam Pomfrey, and the medi-witch's soft hand on her shoulder. Hermione could feel the heaviness of a strong arm about her middle as realization slowly became more evident.

"You should go to your dorm before the students awake, dear."

Madam Pomfrey chuckled as she tutted over the two teens tangled together in the tiny cot. She nodded and promptly swept from Draco's curtains as Hermione's consciousness began to fully settle.

Draco's deep breaths rustled softly against her neck, the heat making goose flesh arise under its wake. His eyes were still closed when she glanced over her shoulder. He looked so peaceful, sleeping yet full of life, and Hermione felt another wave of relief wash over her at his new spiritedness. When she attempted to slip from the bed without waking him, his arm tightened around her middle, drawing her closer.

"A bit longer," he murmured, and her soul vibrated as she nestled back into his frame; he buried his head into her neck, kissing her nape through her wild curls.

"I should go before Madam Pomfrey comes back," Hermione whispered a few long moments later.

Draco sighed, caressing her hair once more as his arms loosened from her frame. She shifted from his meager mattress, packing her scattered belongings into her school bag quickly. She sighed slightly, turning back to him as she shouldered it.

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

"Yes, if I cannot see you tonight," he acknowledged, his eyes still closed.

Hermione's smile lingered as she rounded his cot toward the slit in his makeshift walls. Deep clearing of his throat made her pause, her hand halfway through the fabric split.

"Granger," he drawled.

Draco's hand was beckoning her when she turned back toward him, one eyebrow up as he laid relaxed against his pillows. Hermione chuckled softly as she stepped to him, sliding her hand into his.

He pulled her somewhat, drawing her in and curling his other hand around her neck. His lips met hers in a delicate kiss that made her fingertips tingle. He kissed her for a long-drawn minute, shorter than she wished, before his hands fell away.

"Later, Granger," he chuckled as she opened her eyes.

"Goodbye, Draco, " she grinned with a deep blush, spinning quickly and leaving him under the medi-witch's care.

Hermione spent most of the day reading in her dorm room after departing Draco, except for a quick dinner in the dining hall. When she returned near 7:00 p.m., Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were perched upon Lavender's bed, meeting her with nasty sneers.

Hermione rolled her eyes intensely, stomping past the insolent best friends, pausing to snag her dress from the hanger before heading into the bathroom to ready.

The peace between the girls has persisted no more than five seconds after Ron's split with Brown. Over the past week, her two dorm mates had returned to snide, sarcastic comments and childish remarks throughout the halls and in the common room. Hermione wasn't even safe in her own room from their sheer crudeness.

By the time Hermione exited the tiny lavatory, her hair piled on her head in a delicate twist, and her lips tinted pink, her roommates were gone. Breathing gratefully at their absence, she smoothed her hands down her emerald green dress, charmed that color from a soft blush that hadn't felt genuine.

The clock on her bedside table read 7:50 p.m. when she withdrew her wand. Ensuring her dorm was absolutely vacant, she palmed the sapphire pendant from her dress' pocket. Donning it with a small smile, she flicked her wand and watched the chain shimmer with magic as it disappeared in the reflection of her small mirror.

The common room was littered with bodies when she wandered downstairs, but no one called her name. Hermione languidly strolled down the stairs to the sixth floor, early to her designated meeting spot for her rather odd date.

"Granger," her name was drawled quietly about the corridor as she paused near the steps.

Hermione shifted gradually, and her eyes settled on Draco relaxing against a wall just inside a shadowed alcove. He cocked his head into the darkness, summoning her, and then disappeared into the umbrae with a smirk.

She welcomed the small simper that spread over her features as she slipped inside, hoping she wasn't noticed. The niche pointed down a set of stairs, where she could see moonlight filling the base of the stairwell with soft illumination.

As she rounded the stone wall's edge, her eyes met his, the silver shining with the moon's rays. He was leaning against the high window seal, both feet firmly planted on the floor, and his legs somewhat spread. She had almost forgotten how breathtaking he was when he didn't even try.

His hair was long, quite shaggy, and he hadn't stripped the stubble that had grown over his jaw while he laid comatose. His face appeared a bit tired as he winked at her.

"What are you doing here? You should be resting."

"I wanted to see you."

His lips ticked up into both a smug yet insanely handsome smile as he held his hand out again, beckoning her. Hermione felt her heart rate quicken as his presence enticed her forward.

"You should be resting," she echoed as she neared, settling into the space between his legs. Her hands falling to play with his collar as they ordinarily did.

"You look stunning," he whispered, and she couldn't help the pulse between her legs as a hand fell to her hip, the other dancing over her arm.

"And you should be resting."

"I'm to meet Mother."

"And, you should be resting until she gets here!"

"Shut up, would you?" Draco drawled, running his hand along her form, curling his fingers under her chin.

He lifted it slowly, intentionally, as he trailed his thumb over her lips. He leaned into her gently, touching a tender kiss to Hermione's lips as a cacophony of flutters erupted in her gut.

"You look stunning," he whispered against her lips.

"Thank you," Hermione mustered on a shaking exhale. "I'm to meet Blaise soon."

"He knows where you are."

"And?"

"And he can wait."

"No, I gave him a set time to meet," she said, pushing her finger into his chest with a huff.

Draco seemed wholly put out as Hermione stepped back. His lips pursed slightly and his brow furrowed, a litany of envy radiating across his form.

"Fine," he whispered with a temper, and Hermione laughed somewhat.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Draco."

"Yeah, tomorrow."

Hermione chuckled a touch more, swinging her head as she ascended to the alcove's exit. Blaise stood on the wall next to the main steps tapping his toe, gazing downward, and bobbing his head to an unheard tune as she emerged.

"Blaise," she offered with a light smile, scanning over his form. Her soulmate's best mate looked dashing tonight in all black dress robes and emerald green tie that matched her dress' new color well.

"Granger," Blaise uttered, offering his arm as he drove off the wall. "I expected you to be late."

"We had a meeting time," Hermione shrugged, wrapping her arm about his.

"He'll be a bundle of roses tonight," he grinned with a laugh, guiding her away from the stairs into the depths of the castle's sixth floor.

Slughorn's office had been wholly transformed as they passed inside. A plethora of witches and wizards, many of whom were not from Hogwarts, milled about under long drapes of gold and green and red fabric. Fires roared in two separate hearths giving the room an almost stifling heat. Paper lanterns floated overhead, bobbing in unfelt breezes as the lights within shimmered softly.

Cheery laughs were abundant, and it made Hermione a touch sick to enjoy it. To try and forget about the plague trying to overpower everything around her life.

"There's a table," Blaise spoke, setting a hand on her back, guiding her forward.

They stood together for a while, perching over the high table and sipping drinks. It was a pleasant conversation with Blaise. He was rather intelligent and quite adept at charms. Their bickering over last week's lesson had been a stimulating mind break for Hermione, to say the least.

They had even shared uplifting laughter when McLaggen approached, urging her to dance. Blaise had towered over her, enveloping his arms about her waist with a smirk. McLaggen appeared to cower a touch, glancing between the two before apologizing and somewhat sprinting away.

Hermione noticed during a silent moment as Blaise scrutinized the door. Then the room. It appeared as though he had not observed what he seeked, because he sighed and slumped his shoulders for a moment.

Hermione knew that look. And the defeat on his frame. The failure of not finding the one you desire amongst the crowd. The flash of familiar hair or gleaming eyes staring back at you.

"Ginny looks stunning tonight," Hermione said, and Blaise appeared to perk up in turmoil. "You'll see when she gets here."

"Who's her date?" Blaise asked softly, his eyes on his fingers as his brow furrowed.

Just then, the door opened again, and Ginny walked in beside none other than Harry Potter.

"Harry?" Hermione said, somewhat disturbed as she watched the two enter the room.

Blaise stiffened, his face radiating anger for a fraction of a second before he inhaled deeply, letting out a shaking breath.

"Blaise?"

"Leave it, Granger," he growled, downing his drink and slamming it on the table.

He stalked off then, wholly out of sight, but Hermione wasn't alone for long. Ginny and Harry strolled up moments later, and Hermione felt her stomach lurch.

It went rather horribly when Hermione informed Ginny she had accepted Blaise's invite to the party.

The two quarreled for some time until they were left in tears, Hermione's tension and guilt over Draco's unconscious state helping little. Both apologized profusely after Hermione explained her view. Ginny had even slightly agreed that it had likely been Draco's idea. But that didn't stop the deep melancholy that lingered over her red-headed best girlfriend throughout the week.

"Hey, 'Mione," Ginny said composedly.

"Gin. Harry," Hermione offered.

"Did Zabini leave?" Ginny questioned, a small scowl over her features.

"Yeah. Maybe just the loo?"

"Right. If you don't mind, I could use the loo myself."

Hermione nodded but felt apprehension settle over her as Ginny followed the path Blaise had taken moments before.

She had scarcely spoken to Harry since the evening he had ripped Draco's chest open with an unknown spell. She actually had not noticed much of him. He had spent that night in the infirmary, wracked with guilt, only consolable via Calming Draught. And she had not seen him since.

She couldn't make herself look him in the eyes. She wanted to hate him. Wanted to yell at him for his actions and his hatred. But she couldn't. Her mind battled her heart most days when she mulled over her best friend and the heavy wars he was fighting himself.

"Hey, 'Mione."

"Harry," she greeted simply.

"How's Mal... Draco?"

The shock of Harry's use of his would-be enemy's given name forced through her, and she finally ventured a glance at him. He almost seemed sick as the question lingered in the stale air between them.

"He's alive," she advised, and he flinched.

"I'm... I'm sorry, 'Mione," he stammered.

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to, Harry."

"I know... I just... I think he means something to you. And I nearly took that from you. I'm sorry."

"It will take me time, Harry. You've done... dreadful things this term."

"I know. I'm so sorry," Harry sputtered out suddenly, taking a step toward her. "I've been a git. Worse than. And you've taken the brunt of it. I've been absolutely awful."

"And you need to apologize to Draco."

"Okay... okay, 'Mione, I will."

Ginny and Blaise invaded the space then, their forms close, and his hand on her back. Ginny's face was somewhat blotchy, but her lips were swollen, and she wore what looked to be a satisfied smile on her face. Harry was oblivious to their demeanor as he seemed shocked at Blaise's lingered presence.

"Everything alright?" Hermione whispered to Blaise, who just smirked somewhat.

"Better than," he answered her. "I need a drink. Ladies?"

Both Ginny and Hermione nodded their acceptance.

"I'll come with you, mate," Harry stated with a loud inflection in his tone, unquestionably nervous.

Hermione thought Blaise might punch him in the throat right there. The sneer on the Slytherin's face radiated every measure of outrage that she wished to. But he simply nodded, pacing toward Neville, who carried a tray of drinks on the opposite side of the room.

"He's not my date," Ginny announced abruptly. At Hermione's somewhat perturbed grimace, she continued. "We just ran into each other in the common room. I was going stag. I didn't... I wouldn't after what he did, 'Mione."

"I know, Gin. I believe you."

"He said he finally got rid of that book. The Room of Requirement, apparently. Said that's where he's been."

"Are things okay between you and Blaise, Gin?"

When Hermione turned to her red-headed friend, she had a brilliant grin across her face.

"He told me he loves me," Ginny glowed.

"So that's why your lips are swollen," Hermione laughed.

"Yes, we had a rather intense row near the loo. He tried to explain why he asked you. I _obviously_ didn't take it well. Then he called me daft and said he loved me."

"Gin, that's... Well, is that great?"

"I guess... I'm tired of having to hide us. What's between us..."

"Yeah, I know what you mean..."

"How's Draco?"

"Stubborn. Won't stay put to heal."

A black flash of robes emerged in her peripheral, drawing her head back toward Blaise and Harry. Snape had stepped to them, a signature sneer gnawing at his lips. His mouth moved with rage as he appeared to snarl at Harry.

Neville shook slightly, the drinks upon his tray trembling at his ripples of fear. Blaise's features had ticked into a satisfied grin as he gazed on.

Snape yanked Harry up by the robes and tugged him toward the door. Her supposed best friend glanced back for a moment, a forlorn grimace on his face as he was shoved out the door.

"Kicked him out," Blaise drawled, startling Hermione, who had been helpless to look away from Snape's scene. "Told him to go scrub the trophy room."

"As if that's equivalent," Hermione uttered.

"Nowhere close, but it's a start," Blaise hummed.

The three had a pleasant evening after Harry's exodus, hovered over a table while sipping their drinks and chattering.

When McLaggen approached Ginny and asked her to dance, Blaise had towered about her, too. Encircling his arms about her firmly as Cormac's face rose in dismay. They giggled for some time over McLaggen's appalled expression as he backed away, knocking a tray of drinks onto Snape's robes. Landing him in detention.

A fraction after half-eleven, a loud thump of the door resounded throughout the room, and the band immediately suspended their tunes. All eyes shifted, settling on an utterly deranged looking Draco Malfoy standing in the doorway, pushing off Argus Filch. He had what looked like small blood stains on his pants.

Panic invaded his movements as he ran through the room, practically collapsing at Snape's feet. The professor drew him up by the collar, and the despair on Draco's face coursed throughout her as he seemed to mutter something frantically.

It took hardly a second for Snape's eyes to widen thoroughly. His features showing the first genuine hint of emotion she had ever witnessed: fear.

He typically moved with a speed that made his robes billow behind him. But that was a trifle compared to the swiftness he summoned as he sped from the room, neglecting Draco in his wake. His godson trailed him out, shutting the massive wooden door behind him with a reverberating slam.

"Well, nothing to see there," Slughorn boomed in the silence with an uncomfortable chuckle. The band began soft melodies once more as the room filled with the white noise of chatter anew.

Hermione's eyes met Blaise's, and they held the same concern that undulated within her abdomen.

"Excuse us, would you, Red?" Blaise drawled as he set a firm hand on Hermione's back, dropping his half-empty flute on a table behind them. He sounded utterly calm, and she was glad he could manage it. Because her own speech seemed to be swallowed by fear.

Her heart was hammering in her ears as Blaise guided her out the door, her hands shaking with utter uncertainty as they trailed Snape and Draco through the halls.

* * *

Following Hermione's abandonment of him to seek out Blaise, Draco had taken the long way throughout the castle back to the dungeons. He was rather bored, pent up energy coursing through him as his legs itched to move, albeit slowly. The inability to stay still burrowing into his bones after lying unconscious for days, only released just this morning.

As his languid stroll capped at the entrance hall, he opted to progress toward his godfather's chambers to await his mother's arrival.

Narcissa had yet to visit, and the thoughts engendered a bottomless root of discomfort within his soul. She had been adamant about visiting today, and thoughts coursed through his brain at her absence, her lateness.

The clock ticked past ten and pushed closer to half-eleven before the crackling of Severus' floo clamored to life.

And at that moment, his heart froze. His world fragmented around him as his mother stumbled through the floo.

The skin about her left eye was entirely black, puffy, and the lids were sewn shut with blood. Her lower lip was split in three places, and her jaw was blue and purple, and her hair tousled from its delicate bun. Her robes were tattered, torn in more areas than not, and her ordinarily pink skin was as pale as his own.

Her hands held cuts, her arms and bare legs virtually the same. Her left arm hung limply out of place, scarcely moving as she dragged one leg behind her, staggering.

"Sev...erus," she gasped out as she fell face forward to the floor.

Draco narrowly missed catching her before her head crashed into the ottoman in front of him. He wanted to retch as her blood started to spread onto his trembling hands.

He was shaking as he lifted her, strain apparent throughout his weakened body, laying her onto the sofa. It took him too long, standing there staring down at her, anger boiling inside him and fear rippling through his abdomen before he sprang into action.

Seven sets of stairs put distance between himself and the nightmare come to life below him. His legs shook as he vaulted the castle two steps at a time, panic rushing into his fingertips as he sought to find the only person he could think of.

Flich tried to stop him, but it did little good. Draco exploded through Slughorn's office door, breaths heavy as his limbs ached.

He couldn't perceive clearly through the water in his eyes as he scanned the room, settling on the dark, unmistakable figure of his godfather.

"Mother!" He pleaded as he slumped to his knees in front of Severus Snape, who hauled him by the collar with little effort.

"What?" Severus snarled.

"She's been attacked," were the whispered words that drew real rage, followed quickly by total terror into his godfather's eyes.

Time seemed utterly slow as they ran down the flights and flights of stairs. Like they were fleeing in a dream, but the hallways were ever-expanding, leaving them stuck motionless in the same spot. Forever.

Severus wasted no time as he darted into his office. His hands danced about Narcissa's neck, her face, her hands as he commenced her care. The door swelling open again behind Draco surprised him, and he thrust his wand from his pocket.

The sheer looks of panic on both Blaise and Hermione's faces as he rounded on them made him want to retch. Knowing they could see his mangled mother somehow made it more real. Somehow made everything worse.

"Zabini, get Pomfrey here _now_ ," Snape commanded as he lifted Narcissa into his arms.

"Sir," Blaise uttered, sweeping from the room, leaving a trembling Hermione in his wake.

Severus paced into his bed-chamber then, and carefully laid Narcissa onto his oversized bed. Draco thought it was the first time he had seen his godfather's face truly troubled as he squatted beside his mother, one of her hands in his as the other stroked her hair.

"What happened?" Severus snarled with a fervent rage wholly mismatched from his fragile movements.

"I... I don't know. She just came through the floo and collapsed."

Severus growled as he rose, pacing the expanse of his chamber with a tension in his shoulders. His eyes were darting back and forth, his brow furrowed as he seemed to ponder. Ponder and take no step to heal his supposed lover who lay motionless on his own bed.

"Heal her! Why won't you heal her!" Draco shouted, anger coiling in his heart at his godfather's inaction.

"I can't, boy! We don't know who did this to her!"

"Of course we do! It was _him!_ "

"And that is _preciously_ why _I_ cannot be the person to heal her! She'd be in graver danger if I did!"

Severus' office door flung open then, cutting Draco's confused retort short as Madam Pomfrey rushed through with a wholly concerned look about her features.

"What's happened?" She demanded, skidding through the bed-chamber door.

"We don't know yet. Stop the bleeding, heal the most ominous wounds partially. Leave the bruising and some swelling," Severus instructed, and Madam Pomfrey nodded, setting to work. As if that instruction had been acceptable.

"What do you mean?" Draco roared, and the fireplace appeared to breathe to life behind Severus.

"We can't heal her wounds fully," his godfather said with a somewhat pained expression.

"Of course, we can!"

"Draco... he's right," Hermione muttered hesitantly. Draco twitched a bit, having not realized she had stepped into his space, placing her hand on his forearm. "If she goes back perfectly healed, it will be suspicious."

"Goes back?! She's _not_ going back there, Granger!"

"She has to," Severus said quietly, more virulence is in voice than there had been all night.

"Just send her back to the person who tried to kill her?!"

"He didn't try to kill her. This was a warning. If he had wanted to _kill_ her... she'd be dead."

For the first time in his sixteen years of knowing the greatest potions master to ever live, tears were falling from Severus' eyes. His chest was rising profoundly as violence and a hint of unknown pain flickered across his pursed lips.

Madam Pomfrey's movements stilled in Draco's peripherals as he heard Hermione sob silently beside him. Her hand was tight on his forearm as she gazed, shakily, over his mother's prone figure.

"She will live," the medi-witch said, wiping sweat from her forehead. "Nothing was life-threatening."

"Thank you, Poppy."

"I will wake her. She will need pain and anti-inflammatory potions for swelling in her brain."

Severus flicked his wand, and two small vials soared through the door, settling on the table beside his bed. Madam Pomfrey nodded, holding her wand to his mother's face and muttering quietly, _Rennervate_.

Narcissa sputtered as she inhaled a jagged breath, and Draco's heart stopped again.

"Sweetie, drink these," Madam Pomfrey asserted calmly, lifting the two vials to his mother's lips.

As she drank them, Narcissa started to weep. And Draco felt salty moisture on his lips as Hermione's hand drifted into his.

"Poppy..." his mother cried.

"I'm here. Shh... you're alright."

Severus stepped to her side then, pulling a chair and perching beside her. Her head lulled to the side as pink tears trickled down her face. Draco wanted to move. To sit beside her in the open space on his godfather's bed, but he felt paralyzed.

Hermione's soft clasp of his hand drew his attention. Her blotchy face held concern as she nodded toward his mother. Her hand left his, falling to his back as she nudged him forward slightly.

Draco let the momentum drag him, shakily sinking into the mattress and scooping his mother's free hand into his.

"Sweet 'Cissa, can you tell us who did this?" Madam Pomfrey inquired calmly.

"Broken out of Azkaban..." his mother whispered shakily.

"Who, 'Cissa?" His godfather charged, and it was evident in his tone that he had no sense of the events.

"Lucius... Pansy... Others..."

Draco caught Hermione's sharp inhale behind him but couldn't release his mother's hand. The hysteria of his father's name crossing Narcissa's lips drove a dagger of deep hatred into his heart. He could feel his body heating slowly as visions of Lucius' cane striking his mother's face waltzed through his mind.

"Did... did Lucius do this?" Draco urged, and he could hear the poison in his own tone.

His mother simply nodded her head, her eye closing as pain etched her face again.

Draco welcomed the rage that coiled further into his bones. He'd annihilate him. In his own bed. Watch Lucius bleed out and assure him he deserved it as he spat on his face. Then throw him in a field to let the harpies pull him apart.

"Why?" He growled.

"Ms. Granger... on the tapestry," she responded, and his heart froze anew.

This had been _his_ fault. He was the reason his mother had been violated. Why she was sprawling in his godfather's bed, bleeding and half-dead. He could hear Hermione's loud sobs, and it made him want to retch. He had injured his mother, and he knew his soulmate was blaming herself.

"In his office... I haven't had access..." his mother whispered, her brows furrowing as another charge of pain appeared to course through her.

"I'll kill him..."

"I denied knowledge... he didn't..."

But Draco could no longer understand the words his mother's lips appeared to utter. A loud ringing in his ears, his sharp breaths, and the idiom _, I'll kill him,_ the only sonances throughout his brain. His vision grew hazy and started to tint red as his rigid body vibrated.

"Zabini, the fire!" His godfather roared, but the words made no sense jumbled in the mass of Draco's subconscious.

"Ow... Draco!"

"Draco! Release..." Severus roared, but his voice was drowned out by the sound of a blazing fire in Draco's ears.

His body shook as if someone were tugging him, jostling him, but he couldn't move. Stabbing pierced at his fingers, repeatedly, but it felt like fuel on the flames in his soul.

Like a wave of water crashing against an open blaze, suddenly two icy spots were pressed to his face, drawing his head until his red, clouded vision landed on Hermione. The only crystal in his haze. She had a soft white glow around her, a calming aura that sought to penetrate deep within his psyche.

"Draco! Release her!" Hermione said softly, and he felt his body decompress, his hand uncoiling from whatever he held.

"Draco, can you hear me?" Hermione whispered.

He nodded slowly and felt fire burning behind his eyes. The redness around Hermione seemed to flow like roaring flames on a path of destruction, the white wisps of her outline battling them endlessly as they danced for power.

"Draco, just listen to my voice."

He felt then that she was running a hand through his hair, and water was flowing down his spine. Her palms pressed into his neck slowly, kneading softly up and down his shoulders as she spoke again.

"Come back. Come back to me," Hermione's voice echoed throughout the walls of his brain like a melody meant only for him.

He moved his hands to her wrists, holding them in place, and saw her wince somewhat. He noticed the steam from his hands then, the red mist over his vision clearing slightly.

"Granger?" He uttered.

"Can you hear me?"

"Yes," he nodded and watched her sag in relief.

When he withdrew his hands from her wrists, he noticed the redness about them. As wide as his fingers and wrapped wholly around her form. Her face was pained as she tried to smile at him, his slightly hazy vision settling on the distressed look on her face.

"What..." he murmured, drawing her hands away from his face." Did I?" And she nodded.

It took a moment for his mother's sobs to infiltrate his attention, but when he looked over, she was clutching her hand as tears fell down her face. The hand he had been holding.

"Mother!"

"Back up, Draco," Severus demanded.

Draco turned, his sights falling to Madam Pomfrey, who's eyes were round as she gawked at him. Blaise was standing without a shirt behind her, the smell of burnt fabric and charred wood saturating the stale air around them.

"Back up so we can heal her hand!"

Hermione's firm hand settled on his shoulder, pulling him back. He rose clumsily to his feet, and the medi-witch swooped over, pulling Narcissa's blackened hand into her own.

Draco gagged at the sight of the blatant burn marks on his mother's skin. That could have come from no other person than him.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered as tears started to leak from his eyes.

Hermione tried to envelop him then, her tiny figure wrapping around his in a crushing hug. He let his head fall onto hers as he cried. He acknowledged as Blaise set a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

"Draco, I'm fine," Narcissa spoke.

He shakily raised his eyes and settled them on his mother. She had what appeared to be a small smile on her face as she held her hand, wrapped in bandages.

"I'm sorry, mum..." Draco cried. " _He_ hurt you because of me... and then I hurt you, too. My own mother..."

He uncurled himself from Hermione and fell again at his mother's side. She tried to smile anew, and he grieved deeper at the pained expression she made.

"You are not like him, darl..."

"Oh my gods," Hermione breathed suddenly.

The genuine fear inscribed on Hermione's face when he glanced over his shoulder rippled through him.

"No... no, no, no, no," she wailed, shaking her head furiously as her back stiffened.

"Granger, what's wrong?" Blaise demanded, placing a hand on her trembling shoulder.

"My parents..." she breathed.

The room was quiet for a moment, no one moving as her words shattered their perceptions further. Her utterance seemed to linger in the hackneyed, unforgiving atmosphere of their moment. All eyes trained to her as terror radiated from her form.

"No..." his mother gasped beside him, and it appeared to jar Hermione's senses.

"Draco, we have to go to Dumbledore _now,"_ she shouted.

"No, Granger. Mother is at even more risk! They'll kill her!"

"They'll kill her if we don't, obviously! They've already beaten her near death, Draco!"

"We'll just get her out! Into hiding!"

He hated this. Detested every moment of the words blundering past his lips. But he couldn't allow his mother to be exposed to more danger. He knew it now. They would kill her where she stood in her own home. And feel no remorse as her body went cold in front of them.

"And who will hide her? We have to go to Dumbledore. This isn't just about _you_ any longer. My parents are in danger! You think they won't go after them?! They might already be dead!"

She was screaming, her blotchy face reddening further with every heaving breath she took. Her fists were clenched and trembling at her sides as the fierce gaze on her face hardened.

"Granger..."

"No! I don't care what you say! We're going to Dumbledore. Tonight!" Hermione commanded.

"Draco," Narcissa said softly, and he felt himself deflate at her tone. "She is right. They will kill me either way. And her parents for sport."

Hermione stomped toward the door then, and Draco saw the welling tears in her eyes. The sheer panic that radiated from her essence. Severus' wand invaded his peripheral, and a loud clicking resounded as his door's bolt fastened into place.

"You cannot go to the Headmaster..."

"Yes, I can! I have to!" Hermione shrieked, interrupting his godfather's statement, spinning on the balls of her feet with a vehemence written in her grimace.

"As he is traveling," Severus finished with a sneer.

"Traveling? Where?!"

"I do not know his location."

"Professor, please!"

"I will go to the Manor tomorrow to gather information."

"My parents could be dead before tomorrow!" Hermione shouted.

"They will not kill them yet. You are leverage now, Ms. Granger. _They_ are leverage now."

Hermione's form shook as she sank slowly to her knees, her hands falling in front of her as her head sagged. Her loud sobs saturated the small space as the other two women openly cried. Everyone seemed rooted to their spots, merely watching her mourn.

His mother's bandaged hand settled on his wrist, and when he met her eyes, she inclined her head toward his sobbing soulmate.

He rose, gradually, moving closer to her. Draco knelt down, hunched on his heels, lifting a shaking hand toward her head. He hesitated for a moment, fear of harming her over pulsing inside him, before he gently ran his palm over her curls.

Her deep bewailings rang louder as she lifted her head, her eyes completely bloodshot as they met his. She shifted suddenly, pushing into him, and he fell backward. She sobbed shakily into his chest as his arms encircled her, pulling her into his lap.

"I did this... for them. And I'm the reason they'll be killed..." Hermione wailed.

"No, Granger, this is my fault," Draco responded, enclosing his arms around her shoulders further, crushing her into his chest.

Her arms circled about his back, and he felt the frozen mixture of her tears sliding against his neck, saturating his shirt. He couldn't say anything else, opting to hold her until her sobs seemed to fade.

Pomfrey walked over a bit later, offering them both vials of shimmering liquid. He had to help Hermione drink hers before downing his and watched her eyes flutter closed as tiredness grew over his form. His head nodded against hers as he drifted deftly asleep.


	10. A Plan isn't Action, but it is Betrayal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovies!
> 
> I'm super nervous about this chapter and the next. They are hugely important to the storyline and I hope I don't ruin them. But I won't let anxiety cause me not to post!
> 
> honest feedback is appreciated!
> 
> As always, I do not own anything Harry Potter and make no money from posting this story.

The remnants of a stubborn night's slumber slithered from Hermione's frame as her psyche synched with consciousness. Her eyes felt raw, and her mind was somewhat blank as she sighed deeply, wishing to cling to the last lines of sleep fading quickly from behind her eyes. 

"Good afternoon, Ms. Granger," Dumbledore's somber sonance settled in the space around them, pulling her attention as her eyes fluttered open. 

"Headmaster," she said a bit stunned. 

Dumbledore sat perched in a chair, a kind and cheerful smile on his lips obscured slightly by his great gray beard. The gold-trimmed crimson robes he wore shimmered in the bright sun streaming through the windows as he nodded his head lightly. His dazzling blue irises seemed somewhat bothered. Still, his presence was like a hook to reality, pulling Hermione from her dreamless world. 

Recollection settled as she realized her body laid prone atop an infirmary cot, still clad in the dress she wore to Slughorn's Christmas party. The stillness of the room somewhat ghostly about her as she ran her tongue against her dry teeth. Her mouth felt parched from elongated sleep, and she was ravenous, her stomach growling as she stretched. 

It took a few moments for the waves of memories to crash over her from the night prior, but as they did, Hermione's body jolted upright. The fresh layer of fear that fizzled within her gut made her want to retch. Her parents were in danger, Narcissa beat to near death, and no one was certain how far the downfall went. 

And she was lying unmoving in the hospital wing while her parents endured torture. Or worse. 

"Ms. Granger, would…" 

"Headmaster! Please, you have to help me!" she spoke shakily, her voice rising with every word. 

"Ms. Granger," the Headmaster addressed again. 

"Please! My parents!" 

"Ms. Granger!" Dumbledore asserted firmly, and Hermione winced somewhat as his face slipped quickly to one of cold fury. Dumbledore had an unquestionable manner about him. Turning from a picture of genuine rage to the image of a bright-eyed, wisdom-filled wizard in the blink of an eye. 

"Perhaps we should take our conversations to somewhere a bit more private?" 

"Of course, Headmaster…" Hermione uttered, somewhat abashed as Dumbledor's gaze softened anew. 

"Would you care to join me for a cup of tea?" 

"I… I don't," Hermione stammered at his calmness, at his near lack of concern. "Yes, sir." 

The Headmaster rose then, and Hermione followed on wobbly knees. It was evident she slept for considerably longer than necessary, but her body still felt depleted. Her mind was racing yet vacant all at once. 

Dumbledore strolled in unblemished silence as Hermione trailed him down the short set of steps to his office corridor. The hallways were wholly empty as they walked, and Hermione realized she had missed the train's departure for the Christmas holiday. The sole sound outside of their steps were the sconces that breathed to life in the shallow, shadowed foyer as they approached the ominous gargoyle guarding his chamber. 

The blacked right hand that fell from the Headmaster's robes caught Hermione's attention as it waved through the air, spinning the stone watchmen without an utterance of a password. The extremity was pitch black, boiled, decrepit, and almost rancid looking. And he didn't appear the least bit disturbed, merely padding it back within his sleeve as he stepped onto the stairs. 

She decided to question nothing, remaining in silence as she followed her Headmaster up into a wholly crowded chamber. 

A familiar shaggy blonde-headed boy sat slumped on a soft purple sofa to the side of Dumbledore's desk, staring at his shoes. He looked tired, really more than. His eyes were rimmed dark, and the strained red veins throughout the whites were evident. His nose sat scrunched high, causing his lip to pull into a sneer inadvertently, and he wore the same garb he had the previous night. 

When he held his mother's hand, utter vehemence throughout his stiff frame, as the fire had roared to life, catching Blaise's shirt on fire along with the surrounding wall. When his hands clasped about his mother's had burned white-hot and seared her delicate skin. When his pupils grew so dilated that his eyes appeared wholly black as they gazed up at her shouting voice, somewhat demonic. 

Snape stood behind the couch on which her soulmate sat, this face melded in a signature sneer. He was breathing deeply, his pale hands clasped in front of him as his obvious annoyance expanded across the grimace he wore. 

Kingsley Shaklebolt leaned on the opposite corner of the room, speaking quietly with Alastor Moody, Remus Lupin, and Hestia Jones, who Hermione had only met once. Their distaste with Draco's presence was apparent as they scrutinized him just breathe with hawk-like precision. Eyes unsure, as if they were anticipating he would draw out his wand and attempt to take their lives. 

"We have a quorum," Dumbledore declared as he seemed to float through the room, sinking slowly into the chair behind his desk. 

"Headmaster," Snape drawled. 

"Albus, I assume you have heard the news?" Kingsley searched. 

Her nerves were on fire, her hands shaking, as Hermione wandered further into the room, lowering stiffly onto the cushion next to Draco. He finally glanced up, astonishment and relief engraved on his face. His hand flinched toward her, but Snape cleared his throat, causing him to yank it back promptly. 

"It is why I have cut my travels short, " Dumbledore spoke. 

"Travels of which you did not see fit to inform anyone," Lupin mumbled. 

"Severus was aware. Shaklebolt, have you news?" 

"Perhaps we should start with why we have a visitor," Moody said with a growl, and Draco winced. 

"I have summoned Mr. Malfoy here. This less you know of his reasoning, the better," Dumbledore intoned, a sharp eyebrow raised as he cocked his head lightly. 

Moody huffed audibly as he crossed his arms over his chest, tapping his metal foot on the stone ground in annoyance. 

"The Order has been to the Granger home," Shaklebolt started, taking a brief respite to gaze at Hermione. 

Her surname put her heart on a galloped path to no end. Hermione's spine felt as inflexible as the wood of her wand as she sat forward, her eyes locking to Shaklebolt Shaklebolt's lips. As if staring into the void of his mouth would make it emit the information that she so desperately wished to hear. 

"It has been vacant all night," he concluded. 

The knot deep in her stomach bulged, clenching against the muscles of her trachea. She couldn't breathe, her jagged swallows only serving to crowd her throat further. 

It was impossible. Hermione refused to believe her parents had been abducted. Refused to believe they were forced into some dirty cell, held against their will due to her own actions. 

"Severus?" 

"There are rumblings around the Manor, all of which seem to elude me." 

"What does that mean?" Hermione shrieked, standing suddenly as the fear surpassed her sensibilities. 

"It means, the Dark Lord has seen fit to exclude me from this knowledge." 

"This is escalating quicker than we envisioned," Dumbledore spoke. 

"Did you attempt a locator spell? Search for signs of dark magic? Did you check their practice? They weren't meant to travel, but that doesn't mean they changed their minds because I didn't come home," Hermione rambled, her voice quivering with trepidation as she paced a touch. 

"We have checked everywhere we can, Hermione," Lupin recited. "We've attempted a locator spell with some of their hairs but nothing. They appear to be in an unplottable location." 

"And judging by _his_ presence Albus, you assume they are within the walls of Malfoy Manor?" Moody questioned. 

"It is the most logical location." 

"And why is that?" Lupin inquired, a touch of heat in his tone that Hermione knew well. 

"The less you…" 

"Yes, the less we know. But you must give us something." 

"Mr. Malfoy, is there a location within your home someone could be held without notice?" Dumbledore requested, disregarding Moody's plea. 

Draco mumbled scantly above a whisper, and Snape's face pulled further into his sneer. 

"Do not mutter, Draco." 

"The cellar," he vocalized louder. "In the ballroom. It's the only place to truly…" Draco appeared to delay his statement, gazing up at her with a distressed expression. "To hide someone," he finished, grimacing. 

"We have to save them!" Hermione shouted over. 

"A Manor elf, Draco," Snape drawled. "Can they help?" 

"I… I don't know." 

"Call one here." 

"Hold on a moment," Lupin halted. "Why are you so willing to help us, Malfoy?" 

"That is not pertinent…" Snape began, but Moody interrupted with an audible scoff. 

"It bloody well is pertinent!" 

" _Lucius_ was one of the escapees yesterday," Lupin pointed out. 

The moment his father's name left Remus Lupin's lips, both of Draco's fists went white with tension. Hermione wanted to collapse next to him on the couch. Take his hand to soothe him as she knew his touch would comfort her. But she knew she couldn't. 

"You must understand our hesitation," Shaklebolt spoke. 

"The two are not related," Snape intoned. 

"They are, Severus. Until you provide us reason otherwise. How do we know this isn't a trap? Death Eater's kidnap a known muggle-born supporter of the Light's parents and the son of a prominent member can miraculously help us into the Manor?" Lupin ranted. 

"I vouch for the boy," Snape growled. 

"And what good is your word?" Lupin sneered. 

"I want to get my mother out!" 

Draco's voice cracked as he shouted above all else. Snape sighed, rocking his head slightly with an exasperated roll of his eyes as the fireplace behind Kingsley sparked a touch. Nothing spectacular to catch anyone's attention, but Hermione knew. She could see Draco mere steps from the edge, striving to stave his anger behind shaking fingers. To not ruin whatever opportunity he currently possessed at salvation. 

"Explain," Lupin demanded. 

" _Lucius_ ," Draco spat, "harmed my mother. And I want her out of the Manor as safely as possible. I am doing this _for her_ , not any of you," he snarled. 

Hermione knew his words were half-truths, but the sting still settled on her skin. That even though her parents were likely suffering torture, he merely thought of his mother. She understood he had his own concerns; that his mother was also unsafe. But it still ached, even if her logic told her otherwise. 

"You help us locate Hermione's parents, and we hide Narcissa Malfoy," Moody reiterated with a scoff. 

"Precisely," Draco asserted plainly. 

"I hear she visits the castle on occasion," Lupin expressed with an elevated eyebrow. "Why can she merely not return home one evening? Why help us?" 

"My loyalties will be called _further_ into question than they already are," Snape spoke. "They were unaware of where Narcissa was visiting before Lucius' escape. Her entrance here has now been sealed," Snape continued as Hestia's face rose in horror. "We still need someone at the Dark Lord's side, do we not?" 

"And just who do you expect to willingly take in the wife of a _Death Eater_ ?" Moody sneered, quickly met by the virulence on Draco's face. 

"I have secured a safehouse within which Narcissa will reside. Nothing more will be shared," Dumbledore declaimed. "Now, Mr. Malfoy, the elf?" 

"Sir…" Draco nodded sharply, taking measured breaths. "Pip. Pip, can you please come to me?" 

A small popping noise reverberated throughout the room as a sullen, pillow-case clad elf appeared in a flurry. He looked utterly terrified, his large ears flattened to his head, and his already enormous eyes widened abnormally fuller. Hermione could see the water in his orbs and the streaks of dirt down his face from already shed tears. 

And her hatred for the Dark grew even further. 

"Yous be callin', young Master?" Pip squeaked on a silent sob. 

"Pip, the cellar. Are you able to Apparate in and out?" 

It was a matter of milliseconds before Pip exploded into tears, hunched over, and rammed the crown of his head into the short coffee table at the center of the room. The cracking resounded through Hermione's brain, and everyone gasped at the contact. He smacked his head once more before Hermione rushed to his side. 

"Stop! Oh, please, stop!" Hermione pleaded, gripping the tiny elf's hand and pulling him backward, fending off his half-hearted attempts to shrug her off. 

"Pip mus'en be talkin' of the cellar!" the small creature wailed, trying to pull his arm from her grasp with meager tugs. "Old Lord forbids." 

"The old Lord is no longer your master," Draco spoke. "I am Lord of the Manor now." 

"Missus be tellin' Pip," Pip sniffled, relaxing somewhat in Hermione's grasp. "But we can't stops." 

"I am sorry, Pip. For everything that you have been through. I have been lax in my Lordship." 

Draco stood then, rounding the table. He seemed taller as he stepped into Hermione's space, somehow more commanding. Broader in the shoulders that appeared fixed with determination. Softer in the eyes that lingered on hers before he gazed down at the elf in her hand. His presence seemed to calm the elf, and she dropped Pip's hand in response. 

"Can I order you to stop obeying him?" Draco questioned as he squatted down, meeting the elf level. 

Pip didn't answer. His small hands tensed as he gazed about the room before nodding carefully once. His eyes closed tightly as if his entire body radiated with an apparent need to harm himself. Harry had told Hermione of Dobby's self-punishment at disobeying Lucius' orders. And she imagined all Malfoy elves had the same direction. 

"Pip, you are to listen to only the orders of myself, Severus Snape, and the Ladies of the Manor. Do you understand?" 

The small elf nodded as the plural settled on Hermione's mind. That _she_ was, in fact, a Lady of the Manor now. Lady Black. Lady… Malfoy. 

"Yes, my Lord," Pip replied with a somber nod. 

"Call me Draco. We've known each other long enough," Draco smiled slightly, patting the elf's hand as he continued to cry. "Now, Pip. The cellar." 

"Pip can't be gettin' in… old Lord lockin' us outs." 

"Can you tell me if there are people inside?" 

"Pip don't be knowin'… Lord Draco." 

"Thank you, Pip. I appreciate your help." 

At Draco's words, the tiny elf cried more emphatic, clinging to his newly commanded master as if some sort of lifeline. Hermione noticed the room's odd quietness then and saw the somewhat shocked expression of most adults in the room. The apparent concern Draco had shown for his elf astonishing them all silent for a second. 

"Pip, pack all of Draco and Narcissa's necessary belongings. As quickly as possible without being seen," Snape demanded in the silence. 

"Theys be holdin' the Missus in her chambers," Pip said quietly. 

"Explain," Severus demanded. 

"Twos be standin' outsides Missus' door all days, " Pip clarified. "They hasn't be gettin' in." 

Draco stood suddenly, his face angry yet wholly concerned as he turned toward Snape. Snape simply held up his hand briefly as Draco huffed indignantly. Hermione felt another wave of fear grip her at the thought of Narcissa held against her will just as her parents were. 

"Then we shall hope the wards will continue to keep them out," Severus spoke with a deep sneer. "We will come for you and the Missus on Christmas evening. Be prepared and protect her with all you have. You may return to the Manor." 

At his dismissal, Pip nodded once and disappeared before another word was spoken. 

"This is evidence enough," Moody spoke quietly, his face somewhat softer than Hermione had ever observed. 

"We are to do this in less than 36 hours?" Lupin inquired, evident discomfort in his tone. 

"The Manor will be empty on Christmas evening," Snape articulated. 

"You're certain, Severus?" Dumbledore questioned. 

"Revels in a muggle town have been planned as a celebration." 

"We mustn't allow such a thing to happen," Hestia finally spoke, shock obvious in her tone. 

"Outside of Wellingborough, if you must inform the Auror department, Hestia." 

"You won't be at the Manor?" 

"I cannot be." 

"It appears Narcissa will be no help from inside," Shaklebolt stated. 

"How will we get past the wards, Severus? Surely if that elf can apparate in here, he can get Narcissa out to the safehouse unharmed. But we won't be able to Apparate out with Hermione's parents." 

" _That_ is why Draco is here," Snape sneered. "He can let the wards down for your access. But he is to remain _hidden._ " 

"I will not stay hidden! I have to ensure Mother gets out." 

"You are a minor and you will do as you are told. The elf will get her out on Christmas evening after the Granger's are extracted. And you will stay hidden," Snape ordered. 

"Why can she not leave now?" Hermione queried, hoping her fear and anger didn't read in her voice. "She's in just as much danger as my parents." 

"If she were to disappear, your parents could be in further danger," Shaklebolt spoke. 

"And we must ensure young Lord Malfoy keeps his word," Moody replied. 

"You're using his mother as collateral? That's barbaric!" Hermione shouted. 

She could feel the cold radiating from her fingers. She hated every moment of this. Hated herself for being so foolish in the actions that lead to this. And now Narcissa, who just yesterday suffered beating near death, was collateral in her own parents' hopeful rescue. 

"You should be thankful. We're ensuring access to your parents," Lupin pronounced. 

"Thankful you're threatening the life of my… of Narcissa to save my parents? I thought we were better than that!" 

"War is grayer than you may wish, Hermione, " Shaklebolt mumbled with a sad look in his eyes. 

"It's wrong!" 

"Granger," Draco said, somewhat sternly. "This has been decided. I don't plan to go back on my word." 

Hermione felt herself deflate somewhat at the fierce gaze Draco's eyes offered her. She was, it seemed, the last one to learn of their prearranged plan. She nodded quickly, her face pulling into a serious grimace as she folded her arms across her chest. 

"We will need more than the four of us for this," Moody remarked. 

"Four?" Hermione searched. "You're not going without me." 

"We will put a plan in place, Hermione. If your parents are indeed within Malfoy Manor, we will make sure they come out alive." 

"I'm going, Remus," she demanded, stomping her foot as she pushed a deep breath out of her nose. 

"Ms. Granger, I'm not sure…" Hestia attempted. 

"Draco can risk his life, but I cannot? Is his life worth less than mine?" 

"He is critical," Moody pronounced. 

"As I am. Do you truly believe my parents will go voluntarily with a group of wizards they do not know? I can protect myself! I can help. I will _not_ sit quietly while my parents are in a cell!" 

"Severus, are you wholly confident the Manor will be empty?" 

"Positive." 

"We need to regroup. Severus, are you able to map the Manor? We need a direct route to study." 

Snape simply nodded. 

"I will inform the Aurors," Hestia spoke, nodding once as she picked up a handful of powder and tossed it into the Headmasters floo, whisking away in a swirl of green flames. 

"I must return to the Prime Minister. Remus, keep me informed," Shaklebolt nodded, following Hestia's route. 

"We will be back for both of you at 5 p.m. on Christmas evening. Be here and prepared," Lupin commanded. 

Draco merely nodded his head once, as Hermione followed suit. She couldn't bring herself to do anything else. Everything felt unresolved as Lupin and Moody exited the chamber following the counterparts. There had been no plan enacted, no set route to the recovery of her parents. 

And it made Hermione somewhat ill as she lingered in the Headmaster's less crowded chamber. 

  


* * *

  


From the moment his eyes snapped wide this morning, Draco had been a tightly wound coil of guilt, anger, and loathing. He had woken stiff-necked on his godfather's couch, alone, and wrapped in a blanket. As if it were supposed to hold him in place. 

In sheer panic, he had attempted to floo home once he realized his mother no longer laid still in Severus' bed. But it had been futile. The fire wouldn't light, let alone allow green flames to engulf him. 

He attempted to vacate Severus' chambers, but the door's bolt was locked tight, an intricate ward shimmering against the wood as he approached. His wand was missing, and he lost his temper, setting a blanket on fire, which he doused quickly with a wave of his hand. Clearly, Severus intended for him to stay put if the note he found minutes into his rampage were words by which to go. 

And so he had. Impatiently. Treading throughout the still chamber, kicking chairs and knocking books off shelves like a child throwing a tantrum. 

Severus had appeared an hour later, somewhat breathless as he swept through the door, commanding Draco to sit down. He had refused, and his godfather _made_ him with a sneer. 

His godfather demanded that no matter what, he was to keep his mouth closed. That a deal had been made for him, and he would simply need to do as instructed to ensure his mother's longevity - her safety. 

Which had led him squatting stiffly in front of four people he barely knew. One who had been his teacher for an entire year. And another whose _likeness_ had turned him into a ferret. The endless silence and their cutting gazes pushed Draco further into fury as they waited, muffled whispers the only sound in the Headmaster's office. 

Having their visitors leave now, narrowly anything settled, just the mere essence of a plan to save Hermione's parents in their minds did nothing to soothe him. He had ensured his mother's protection, but they seemed lacking in a solid plan to ensure her or Hermione's parents' safety. And his freedom seemed unacceptable with their demise probable. 

"Now that they are gone," Dumbledore started, indicating the couch with his hand, "I believe we have a few other things to discuss." 

"Yes, Headmaster," Draco sighed, resting back into the couch as a bewildered yet wholly full of rage Hermione slumped next to him. 

"Would you mind revealing your mark?" 

Draco wanted to tell him no. That he didn't need to see the mark. But of all people, he was the _only_ one who should - the only one who had been targeted directly from its application. 

The Dark Mark in its full form, as black as the hatred that it bred, had been hideous. Genuinely heinous vilification of his skin. He had gagged every time he had studied it over the summer and the early days of term. He wanted to scratch off the surface that it sizzled against when that evil, red-eyed monster summoned him. 

But what fell exposed as Draco nodded, pushing up his sleeve, was anything but that horror. He could deny it no longer but begged himself to not find joy in it. 

His mark had lightened to scarcely more than a gray shape against his pale skin. The snake's form was a muddled mass, and the skull unrecognizable. It was as if the pure repugnance had never existed, and he was merely impressed with darkened skin at birth. 

Hermione gasped next to him, her head leaning slightly, her hair tickling his forearm as she inspected it with an unbelievable smile. 

"Draco…" she whispered, and his heart hammered a touch more. 

"Well, that certainly is an unanticipated side effect of your bond," Dumbledore hummed. 

"Ex… excuse me?" Hermione breathed, her eyes snapping away from his arm to the Headmaster as her body stiffened. 

"Surely, you didn't believe two children performing an ancient binding ritual on my grounds would go unnoticed, did you?" 

It was honestly not something into which Draco had put thought. And apparently, Hermione had simply strived to wish it untrue. Or had believed being in the Forbidden Forest had furnished her enough coverage from worrying, prying eyes. 

"Though, Severus, this does appear deeper than your aims, true?" 

"What's that to mean, Professor?" Hermione questioned quietly, her eyes quickly glancing over Draco's shoulder, settling on his godfather. 

But as soon as the question left her lips, she hardened further, her back snapping rigidly straight, her fingers tensing as her knuckles cracked. She gasped once, and Draco could feel the waves of frost that rippled from her skin. 

"It was you. You threw the book down that night," she whispered. 

"I encouraged it from the shelf, yes." 

"What?" Draco urged. 

"He is the one that _encouraged_ me to discover that bloody binding ritual!" She shrieked, standing and stabbing a finger toward Severus. "My parents are in danger, and it is his fault!" 

"This couldn't possibly be his fault, Granger. He couldn't have known I would approach you," Draco declared, glancing at his godfather, who wore a practically guilty sneer. "Godfather?" 

"You are easily persuaded," was Severus' meager response. 

"You… _planned_ this!" 

"I orchestrated the rite, and I will not deny. Narcissa pleaded with me to protect Draco. I knew your insatiable thirst for knowledge and power wouldn't falter. Nor would his boyish infatuation with you. It simply took a suggestion of peace in a tower and a nudge to a clearing in its sightlines after." 

"You forced us together!" Hermione shouted, her hands clenched, shaking, by her sides as her nostrils flared. 

Forced? Had she just wailed that she'd been _forced_ together with him? The notion that her anger wasn't merely due to her parents' harm burrowed its way into his psyche. And his heart. The swirl of emotion serving to add a blaze on top of his already unbalanced mood. 

Another chilled wave washed over his skin then, and he couldn't take his eyes off Hermione. She was clearly disgusted. Distraught. Her hair seemed to bounce with more life than usual as her shoulders shook. Her face crumpled with rage that made a string of resentment coil around his gut. 

"I did not impose anything on you, Ms. Granger. _You_ chose to perform the ritual once it was presented to you. And _you_ chose to complete it with Draco." 

"Masterminded by you! You gave us no _choice_ in our fates!" 

No choice? It was clear, deep down into the fresh pit in his stomach, that she felt trapped. Bound to someone she honestly didn't wish to be. If she had a _choice_ , she'd throw him away and find someone else. Anyone else that didn't come with the baggage he held. 

"Your… bond was unexpected." 

" _Unexpected_ ?! My parents may be dead, and you simply think this," she thrashed her hand between Draco and herself, "was _unexpected_ ?!" 

"It seems you would have found one another either way." 

"You don't know that. You couldn't possibly know that! This is all your fault!" 

Severus simply inclined his head, his eyes closing to small slits as the tears in Hermione's eyes welled. Her sights met Draco's, as if pleading for his corroboration, but he didn't budge. The knot on his larynx proving too thick to break his silence. 

Tears dropped from both of her eyes as she huffed, spinning quickly and running from the room, leaving the three men somewhat silent in her wake. Draco couldn't draw his eyes away from the door as it slammed shut. 

"I confess, Severus, I may have overstepped," the Headmaster spoke. 

"She has somewhere to fixate her anger than on herself now," came his godfather's sullen reply. 

"Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore addressed Draco, finally pulling his eyes away from the door. 

"Sir?" 

"I do not need to tell you that discretion is paramount." 

"You do not, sir…" 

"That includes the power you seem to possess. Which I believe Mr. Granger can match easily." 

"Yes, sir," Draco nodded, a tad shocked that the Headmaster had correctly perceived his earlier outburst when no one else had. 

"You both must resist the urge to show your strength when it is tested in the coming days. Secrets are services." 

"I will ensure she understands…" 

"Excellent. You may go, Draco," Dumbledore spoke, taking him off guard somewhat. 

More from his given name or the fact the Headmaster knew Draco desperately wanted to trail Hermione, he wasn't sure. But he was grateful for his dismissal. 

"Thank you, sir. Godfather," Draco murmured, standing quickly with a scarce bow, hardly making eye contact as he paced from the room. 

The slower he walked up the flights of stairs, the more on fire his nerves felt. His mind raced with Hermione's anger at their bond. Flashed with images of his mother's prone form crying from the night prior. He wished more than ever that he could turn off his mind, allow anything else in. Anything that would calm him so he could soothe Hermione. 

When Draco approached the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy, he sighed somewhat. The door to _their_ chamber sat imprinted on the wall, and he knew Hermione was on the other side. And his heart hammered at the thought. 

He took a moment to attempt to steel himself and conceal his hurt. Draco knew now was not the time for such a triviality as hurt feelings. They were both suffering, their families in danger. And she needed him right now just as much as he needed her. 

When he passed into the somewhat frigid room, he knew the scene all too well. Hermione was pacing the expanse on the chamber, running her fingers through her hair while muttering to herself. A worried yet hateful sneer on her face. 

It was dark in the room, only a single small slit in one curtain letting in the afternoon sun. She paced behind the couch, which slept chilled in front of a barren hearth. 

"Hey," he offered quietly, slowly wandering in further. 

It was clear she hadn't heard him approach in the stiffness of her shoulders. She sighed deeply and rounded, meeting his gaze determinedly. 

"I can't believe Snape," Hermione responded, heat in her tone as she scoffed. 

"Cannot believe what, exactly?" 

"What he did to us, Draco. To you! Were you not listening?" She wasn't yelling, but the condescension in her tone was apparent. 

"I was. I heard my godfather express his wish to protect me." 

"He _protected_ you by taking away any free will we may have had!" 

There it was again. Her anger at their bond working its way against his skin. Her contemptuous tone at what had brought them together. And the decreasing temperature of their chamber showing her utter contempt. 

"You've made it abundantly clear how you feel on the matter, Granger," he declared plainly, rounding the couch and lighting the fire with a flick of his wrist to warm himself. 

"What's that to mean?" 

"I believe your words were that he 'forced us together,'" Draco snarled slightly. 

"It is the _truth_ !" 

"Tell me more of how little I mean to you!" he shouted suddenly, the short cord that had been holding him together finally shattering. He snarled somewhat as he spun, locking eyes to Hermione's ardent gaze. 

"As if you care for me!" She screeched in return. "You're doing this for _only your mother_ ," she asserted, and the tears in her eyes seemed to glisten red with the reflection of the blaze behind him. 

"What did you want me to say, Granger? Dumbledore was hiding this!" Draco yelled, flailing his hand between them as heat crackled at the tips of his fingers. "I couldn't simply inform them my _soulmate's_ parents are prisoners in my home because she was on my family tapestry, could I?" 

"You don't even care!" 

"Of course, I care! It's _you_ who gives no heed to others!" 

"That's not true! I've done everything I can to help you!" 

"Like blaming Weasel's poisoning on me?" Draco sneered and felt a wave of guilt wash over him at her shocked expression. 

"It was your fault!" 

"Or letting Potter nearly kill me?" Gods, what was he saying? That wasn't her fault. 

"I tried to stop him!" 

"Or being so disgusted with our bond that you storm out of a room?!" 

"How dare you!" Hermione wailed, the thick tears streaming down her face slowly like frozen slush as her arms thrashed. Her foot stomped heavily to the stone floor as frost clouded it. "My parents have been abducted, and your mother was beaten, and all you can think about is us?" 

"There isn't an us, Granger! You _didn't have a choice,_ remember?" 

"Shut up! Shut up!" 

He felt idiotic. As if he were digging a rather sizable hole to hurl himself into with every word he spoke. With every statement they shouted. What were they even doing? Blaming one another for every iota of the atrocities outside of their control. 

Another icy blast invaded his pores then, and he wanted to scream. This wasn't happening. He wouldn't allow it. And walking away was the only course of action. He'd rather Hermione see him as a coward than a selfish bastard who gave no compassion to her. 

He scoffed loudly as he turned to stalk from the room. He wasn't going to lose his temper here at one of the few individuals in his life that genuinely cared for him. 

But four steps out, a wall of ice covered the door frame, barring him from the small, wooden exit. 

"You don't get to walk away when you're displeased with the conversation we're having!" Hermione wailed. 

"This isn't a conversation!" He shouted, whirling to face her anew. "We're merely blaming one another!" 

"I hate this! All of it!" 

"And you believe I relish it?" 

"Of course not!" 

"I loathe that my existence has ruined your life, Granger." 

"That's not true!" 

"It is! Had I not been around, your parents would be safe. And you wouldn't have been tortured. You'd be better off!" 

"Stop!" 

"It would have been better had I never found you in that clearing!" 

"Stop!" She cried deeply. "That's not true..." 

Her irises were like liquid crystal, a soft white sheen over them as she sobbed deeply. Her shoulders heaved with every breath she took, and Draco felt an undeniable sense of guilt at making her feel worse than she already had. 

He walked swiftly across the room, stepping into her space as her frozen tears fell like thick droplets onto his conscience. His shaking hand raised, trying to settle on her shoulder, but she flinched, smacking it away with a swift, heavy slap. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered. 

And she cried harder as his hand gripped her shoulder, pulling her into his chest. Her arms circled his back, and her nails sank deeply into his shoulders as she clutched his shirt. Her forehead fell to his neck, and the tension he had been holding since last night slipped slowly from his form. Her shoulders sagged as the same sensation appeared to wash over her. 

"This is my fault," he spoke into her hair. "I should have left when you told me to." 

"No, Draco. No. This isn't your fault," she cried, clutching his shirt further. 

"I'm so sorry, Hermione." 

Her tears felt like they were washing away any fight he had left in him. Draco pulled her closer, kissing the crown of her head as he felt tears well in his own eyes. 

"Come on," he whispered long minutes later, releasing her shoulders and lacing their fingers. 

Draco drew her toward the couch then, flicking his free wrist to ignite the fire further. He dropped onto the sofa, but Hermione stayed rooted to the spot in front of it for a moment, her face hard. 

"I feel so… so guilty…" Hermione hiccuped behind a sob. 

"It wasn't your fault, Granger. Sit down," he whispered, tugging her hand slightly. 

She sighed shakily, sinking into the couch cushion next to his, a somewhat open space between them. The area about her body was cold as she sighed, inhaling another deep breath after. 

"Do you want to know what I saw in the mirror?" She asked quietly. 

"Only if you'd like to tell me." 

"Us," she whispered. 

And the pain of guilt rang through Draco's heart anew. 

"Our families at a picnic. We looked so… happy," she said quietly, a small sob following her words. 

"We'll save them, Granger. I promise," he whispered, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into his shoulder, setting his cheek on the crown of her head. 

He knew how he felt. He had known for a long time but realized it only at this moment. That the sobbing woman he held on his arms was everything to him. And would be his everything regardless of their future, hopefully, regardless of their past. 

He would cherish her with every fragment of himself that he could muster. And then try to admire her a touch more for good measure. 

But he couldn't tell her now as the sounds of her sobs saturated _their_ tiny room. As her frozen tears slid against his skin, melting as they worked down his body. How could he? Her parents were likely dead, and it was _all his fault._

Her sobs lingered for a while longer, until her body went still against his side, her breaths falling deep and even. Her face held lingering worry in her sleep, her eyes flashing back and forth against their lids, as he let the utter exhaustion in his bones overtake him. 

He woke some hours later, well into the night judging by the darkness behind the chamber's curtains. The room was warm; the fire in the hearth still ablaze. 

But the spot beside him on the sofa was wholly cold. Hermione was gone, replaced by a single note that read _I'm sorry_ and a plate of warmed food from the kitchens perching on top of the ottoman. 


	11. Manors of Destruction, Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovies! Sorry to be so long on this chapter. I've been trying to noodle my way through the whole thing without adding plot holes.
> 
> I really hope you enjoy this chapter. I'm so nervous about it, honestly.
> 
> This is HERMIONE'S POV ONLY. Draco's POV will move the story forward in the next chapter. But at 6k+ words, I wanted to cut this one at the stopping point I did.
> 
> Let me know with a kudo or comment how it is. n.n
> 
> TW: death

"Hermione, you are certain…"

"Yes, Remus! I am _certain_!"

Hermione groaned somewhat, a deep knot of tension spreading over her frame, which sat stiffly atop the Headmaster's sofa. She and Draco had been loitering within Dumbledore's office for nearly three hours, alternating between pacing and perching awkwardly without speaking. And while she didn't wish for their togetherness to be uncomfortable, it was evident that an unusual kind of fracture had slithered between their connection.

She had awoken before him two nights prior in the Room of Requirement, saturated in sweat in front of the blazing fireplace. Wholly uncomfortable and trembling from an unknown bitterness. When she gazed at Draco's gentle, slumbering features, the calmness on his characteristics had rattled her. His head tilted back upon the sofa as his arm rested about her shoulder, the soft noise of his breath. All had overwhelmed her, and tears had sprung anew.

Her emotions surfaced as turbulent as the flames in the hearth she frantically yearned to escape. Anger swirled within her as thoughts of her parents holed away in the Malfoy cellars assaulted her psyche. Voldemort's reflections and the authorities he held over souls enraged her while sorrow befell her each time she glanced at Draco's soft exterior. Thinking of his wretched father and his mother's tenderness. She couldn't quell the tears that slid against her skin at the visions his dormant appearance tugged forward.

So she had left. 

And the pang of hunger that reverberated throughout her drew her toward the kitchens. The silence of the castle's hallways was deafening as she traveled into its bowels. Each step she took echoed against chilled stone walls and prickled against her clammy skin, forming horrifying visions of her parents cowering as the same noise reverberated against dungeon walls that held them.

After hastily consuming a petite plate of that night's missed dinner, and requesting an elf deliver Draco a plate and a note, she'd ascended the stairs once more. The walk to the Gryffindor tower had been daunting, but she tried to soothe herself by reciting potion instructions within her mind. She continued the same mind games as she showered quickly and fell into a stiff slumber in her empty, soundless dorm room.

The loud rapping of an owl's beak had woken her yesterday, as a dainty brown barn owl perched upon her window ledge. It hooted only once after releasing a scroll into her hands before sailing away silently. A small piece of parchment scrawled with a hurriedly sketched map of Malfoy Manor. An imprinted thin, golden trail shimmered from the front entrance to the ballroom cellars' depths. To her parents.

Several hours after sunset that night, a first-year who had remained at Hogwarts for the holidays tapped on Hermione's door. She held an offering of a small rolled scroll, a paper bag, and a bright smile as she chattered on about the delightful blonde man who had solicited her help. Her stick-straight dusty blonde hair sailed after her as she bounced away. And Hermione found herself envious of the rapture the girl could summon. Of the peace that she could still muster toward the society about her.

The wafting aroma of a hearty sandwich pierced her nostrils as she unfurled the bag. And it wasn't until that instant that she discovered she had been perching stiffly at her desk all day, memorizing the Manor map and analyzing spellwork she could use to defend herself. Without eating.

Unraveling the note had revealed a familiar scrawl, and she found herself somewhat confused at the emotional swirl the fondness brought. Draco had written inquiring if she was okay. Apologizing again for events that she knew he possessed no command over. However, what caught her attention most was a crass warning which had been issued by Dumbledore.

Commanding them to keep their earthen magicks hidden. Informing Draco that using the pre-eminent power they had procured to challenge the Dark would be against the Order's best interests.

After consuming the small meal Draco had provided, she opted to drink the accompanying Dreamless Sleep potion. She knew deep down that her mind was her most ultimate weapon. And in a sleep-deprived state, she would be little use to the Order the following day. Little worth to her parents.

Hermione permitted herself to linger in slumber longer than she would have typically, clinging to the potion's effects. Until absolute nausea swelled deep within her, pulling her straight toward the toilet to retch.

From the instant that her eyes cracked open this morning, her nerves had been on fire.

Although it was Christmas, it felt wholly dreadful. The castle had an aura about it; general cheer and merriness danced over the snow on her window ledge and in the rackets of the few pupils who were spending their break at school. But she couldn't muster the spirit to appreciate it. A weighted awareness that she would be treading through the corridors of Malfoy Manor in a few short hours to rescue her parents plodded against her psyche.

Remus Lupin had entered Hogwarts well past eight that evening, each minute that had ticked by his proposed 5 p.m. meeting time wrapping pure panic into Hermione's soul. He sauntered through the Headmaster's chamber door, wholly agitated. A worried expression settled on his features as he paced without saying a word. Without meeting her eyes.

One by one, Order members showed in his wake, clad in gear she knew was meant to protect them from death. Alastor Moody and three additional wizards Hermione did not know littered the room before Lupin halted. 

One final member blazed through the green floo flame a few minutes later and had wholly shocked her. Charlie Weasley, who she believed to be in Romania recruiting Order allies, had brushed soot from his scared leather jacket, matching her gaze with a single nod and a refined wink. At which her gut had churned but from what she hadn't understood.

Lupin loudly sat opposite her and Draco with a determined stare, questioning her certainty in accompanying them on their mission. Much to her ire.

"Fine," Lupin sighed, pulling Hermione to his moment.

"Of course, it is fine," she scoffed.

Lupin rolled his eyes profoundly, relaxing back against his chair and raking a hand through his thick, increasingly gray hair. It was apparent the moon's upcoming fullness was grating against his nerves, the deep lines in his face wrinkled as he tried to contain his rage. Moody hobbled over then, his metal leg quietly clanking as he pulled four galleon-sized coins from his pocket. He cast them upon the table between her, Draco, and Lupin with a sneer.

"They were difficult to procure," Moody started. "Portkeys are being heavily monitored after the recent breakout."

"One for each of you, and one for each of your parents, Hermione," Lupin started. "They are charmed for a single person and will not activate if another individual is attached to you. An extra safeguard for the safe house. All you must do is point your wand and speak _Instigo_ to activate them."

Charlie Weasley strolled over then, squatting in black, leather-trimmed pants and finished with what appeared to be dragon-hide boots, next to Lupin—offering Hermione a soft yet wholly concerned smile.

"The plan is simple. We will apparate into Wiltshire, and Malfoy will lead us to the Manor grounds. He will drop the wards, and we will apparate onto the porch."

"Why would we not apparate inside?" Hermione sought.

"We cannot be confident only Malfoy's mum will be inside," Charlie answered with a grimace.

"Snape said it would be clear save for Narcissa."

"And we must be more careful than to trust a Death Eater's word for truth," Moody spoke.

"He's trustworthy!" Draco snarled.

"And we are cautious," Moody responded plainly.

"We will work quickly to find your parents, Hermione," Lupin pronounced loudly, pulling the conversation back in line. "Once we've found them, if they are inside, and sent them away, Ted Tonks will signal you to summon your mother and the elf, Malfoy."

"Once you've used your Portkey, a member of the order will meet you and apparate you to the safe house," Moody declared.

"Hermione, I assume you have memorized this route should you be separated," Lupin sought, unfolding a jagged piece of parchment on top of the table. "Malfoy, can you confirm this is the most direct route to the ballroom?"

Lupin rolled his finger over a glowing golden line on the scrappy piece of parchment. Draco's eyes darted across it, and he nodded swiftly once.

"Down the hallway past the stairs, pass three doors on the right, then take a left. The large door at the end of the hall," Draco expressed as if it were mere common knowledge.

"Then Ted and I will wait here in the foyer while Alastor escorts you to the cellars, Hermione. Charlie will stay with Malfoy for protection and inform the elf of the meeting spot to take his mother. Dedalus and Sturgis will remain on the doorstep as a lookout."

"Right," Hermione nodded.

"Does this all make sense?"

"Yes," she and Draco answered in unison.

"We'll be apparating just outside of Wiltshire and will walk through the forest to the Manor grounds. Are there feats we must worry about, Malfoy?"

"Not outside of the wards," Draco replied.

"And inside?"

"The peacocks are harmless. But a Sphinx has been known to roam from its home in the woods behind the Manor. I would suggest not running into that."

"Noted. We will leave here at midnight. Three hours. Severus ensures the Manor will be long empty by then," Moody spoke.

"Hermione, you look pale. Are you…"

"Do not ask me again if I am sure," she sneered.

" _Fine_ ," Lupin let out on a long sigh. "Have you properly eaten today?"

And at that, Hermione grimaced, shaking her head with a definite no.

"I will accompany her to the kitchen, Remus," Charlie spoke.

He stood then; his broad shoulders set undeviatingly at her. A poignant yet reassuring smile lingered on his freckle-rimmed lips as he held out his hand to assist her from the sofa. Hermione slid her fingers against his palm, and a chill skittered her spine as Draco growl next to her.

"Hello, Charlie," Hermione breathed as the familiarity of a Weasley's presence helped calm her a touch.

"Hey, 'Mi," his deep tone enunciated as he raised a hand toward the Headmaster's chamber door.

"I'm surprised you're here," Hermione offered, strolling alongside the tall, brawny Weasley descending the central steps toward the kitchen entrance.

"Not happy to see me?" He laughed somewhat.

"Of course, that's not true. Your last letter merely stated you were in Romania."

"I am. But the call came through, and I had to come to help my 'Mi. I Portkeyed home yesterday."

"Home…" Hermione sighed, her mind mulling over the Burrow. 

Images of a drunken Arthur showing the purpose of a vacuum cleaner to Fred and George for the nth time flittered through her mind. She presumed the twins had already charmed Ron's hair a putrid shade of Slytherin green while Ginny cackled loudly, and Molly scolded them. Hermione found herself desperately wishing that things were different, and she and Harry were joining the Weasley's in laughing at the twins' shenanigans.

"I'm so sorry to hear of your parents, Hermione," Charlie delivered, setting a hand on her shoulder furthest from his form and tugging her close. His bulky arm placed pressure on her figure that sought to soothe her - but failed. She discerned then that she had withdrawn into her thoughts, walking silent as tears slid down her cheeks. "Why they would do this is unexplainable."

"Thank you, Charlie," she cried, wiping the wetness once again from her face as they entered the kitchens. "How is everyone at home? Do they…"

Charlie accompanied her to a great table, tenderly cradling her elbow as she settled onto the bench seating. He summoned an elf and murmured a request for a warm meal for them both. Which the elf popped away and back with as he took a seat at the opposite edge of the table.

"Mum, dad, and Bill know but didn't want to raise the alarm with anyone else. Bill had to work a few favors for the Portkeys. But everyone else is merely enjoying their Christmas evening."

"Good…"

She tried to steer their conversation away from the upcoming mission, questioning him of Romania as they ate. He hadn't sent a letter in some time, but she couldn't fault him. With the little time she possessed between her and Draco, her studies, and their planning, she likely would have been unable to respond. And she imagined Charlie held fewer free hours in his days.

Several weeks after the start of Hermione's fourth year, she'd received the second oldest Weasley's first owl. The note was brief, questioning her enjoyment of the book on dragon care he had lent her the evening before the Quidditch World Cup. The day following their initial meeting when she had felt like a fool who could vocalize no words as he beamed radiantly and shook her hand.

He owned several new scars around his eyes, and on his hands, she noticed. But it did little to take away what she now realized was a dazzling smile. Or the elegant lines of his neck, or the broad set of his shoulders. Of his stunningly beautiful features that appeared to gleam in comparison to most of his brothers. His skin littered with freckles and his orange hair brighter than the rest of his family's from hours under the abundant Romanian sun.

She hadn't seen him in well over two years, but she couldn't deny the kinship their frequent owling had invented. She felt her cheeks flush as he spoke, his gaze heavy on her features. His eyes soft as he stretched a hand over the table to settle atop hers, comforting her.

But she ached to cry, faulting herself at the timing. At the measure of betrayal that she felt when pondering her parents. And Draco.

"We should get back. We'll be leaving soon," Charlie declaimed with a rueful smile as their conversation ebbed, rising and extending his hand.

"Right..." Hermione lamented, permitting Charlie's guidance through the castle, his firm hand pressed into her lower back, into the Headmaster's office - from where they were able to apparate sanctioned. 

"Are you both ready?" Lupin sought with a grim expression as she paced further in, eyes settling on Draco, who resembled absolute fury.

"Yes," Draco snapped as Moody held out his cane, instructing Draco to place his hand atop it.

"Yes," Hermione echoed as Charlie's firm grasp slid around her waist.

The roads of Wiltshire were barren as her feet landed against the grain of a paved street. Cold coursed within her lungs as she inhaled, endeavoring to quell the queasiness from apparating. And she felt an exhilaration passage through her, prickling goose flesh along the expanse of her skin. The chilled breeze and the small particles of snow appeared to flitter about her mind, fanning a touch of life she hadn't felt in days into her soul.

Faint whispers of bells echoed from a village in the distance, sparkling lights lining the houses' roofs in the hollow below. It _smelled_ like Christmas here. Chimneys churned midnight smoke as dull lights began to tick off throughout dwelling windows. A thick aroma of food floated in the atmosphere, causing her to wish she was sitting in front of a fire with her parents like years earlier.

Pale street lamps flittered light along a seemingly endless road as Charlie tugged her into the trees behind them, his hand lowering to clasp about hers. The headlamps of a lone car passed as the assembly immersed into the expansive forest that surrounded Malfoy Manor - protecting it in plain sight from the muggles beyond.

They trekked for what seemed like hours before Charlie paused, drawing her in close. Pale moonlight danced around the clearing before them, shrouded by the fog of her companions' breaths. And she kenned they were close; that the Manor and her parents laid just beyond the shallow trees that shaded the ground.

Draco, who had been wandering a few paces behind she and Charlie, rounded her side then. A deep leer on his features as his sights scanned Charlie, returning to her with flared nostrils. The space about his form appeared warmer than the iced environment that surrounded the three.

"Hermione… please be careful," he uttered earnestly, looking as though he wanted to stretch out and seize her, but didn't.

"I will, Draco."

"Remember, we can't..."

"I know…" she breathed as he nodded sharply.

"The wards, Malfoy," Moody ordered unostentatiously, Draco's eyes falling to her and Charlie's clasped hands once more before pivoting on his toes and hunting away.

Hermione's breath caught as Draco shifted to the edge of the forest, Lupin bowing his head once before her soulmate slipped into full view. He crouched low and traversed swiftly toward a line of towering hedges, which held at its core a massive wrought-iron gate. His palm lifted, his wand slicing it open before he flattened it onto a large, inlaid metal M.

A deep silver netting shone around the gate, and within a minute, a fog she hadn't remarked prior lifted, exposing an enormous manor.

A deep-rooted sense of foreboding blundered against her skin as the Manor's wards flickered away. The estate before her had an absolute aura of malevolence that sought to seep into her pores. Evil appeared to purr in the breeze that blew in profound gusts against the treetops. Darkness lingered across the shadows of the grounds, pushing a measure of fright into her bones.

She deemed it understandable that Draco had been so nasty in his formative years. If he had endured every night in such a dark place, it surely affected his upbringing. Regardless of how desperately Narcissa sought to save him from disaster. 

" _Homenum Revelio_ ," Lupin muttered, and the grounds tarried quietly. Eerily so. No golden gleaming targets glittered against the gardens.

"Outside is clear. Hermione, are you ready? Be alert. We cannot be certain that only Narcissa is within."

"Be safe, 'Mi," Charlie muttered, enveloping his arms about her shoulders tightly before freeing her.

"I'm ready," Hermione whispered.

Her hands were slick with perspiration, her heartbeat thumping quicker the closer to Lupin she stepped. Draco had nimbly rejoined the group within the forest cover; his features were harsh but concerned as she walked up alongside him. His hard gaze matched hers, nostrils still flared, and Hermione found herself haunted by his expression.

"Please be safe," she murmured, her eyes threatening tears as they tacked away from his.

Hermione inhaled deeply, her lungs pushing profoundly upon the walls of her ribcage. Her nerve endings felt like they were in flames as she jostled her hand into Lupin's outstretched one.

He nodded only once before her navel tugged backward. Her world spun, melting with Lupin's for only a moment before her shoes' soles kissed the delicate stone of the front entrance. An extensive set of double doors towered over her threateningly before slowly dragging open—no one on the other side to explain the action.

But ere the troupe of Order members could move indoors, the powerful blaring of spells littered the front of the Manor. Cracks of apparition clinded the grounds as black flurries circled them and the set of double doors, an ominous sensation settling over Hermione. Fear prickled against her senses as the light of spells bounced around them.

Order comrades stood astounded for a moment, unreactive and unresponsive before a thick, milk jet of bright green flashed through the hurricane of sound - hitting Ted Tonks' unsuspecting form in the chest. Bellatrix Lestrange's mad, unyielding cackle reverberated through the noise of battle fire as Hermione's eyes went wide, watching Nymphadora Tonks' father slump lifelessly to the doorstep.

A piercing ring in her ears echoed as spells scattered the stone facade around her. She felt frozen, shaking as she gazed over a man she barely knew, thinking about how much life he had left - stolen without a second glance.

Lupin's sharp roar belted out as a glowing blue shield charm dropped over them, the ringing in her ears intensifying. Hermione's hands shook with intense terror, explicably more so than being cornered in the Department of Mysteries. And she craved to weep and stretch out for her best mate.

But Harry wasn't by her side this time.

"Hermione! Move!" Lupin shouted, yanking her into the house as bright flashes of magic reflected off the shield protecting her. "Now! Go!" He roared as he forced her forward, jostling her senses.

She was terrified - swelled with genuine panic as her feet set in motion, echoing against the marble floor below. The trail to the staircase seemed thirty meters lengthy, but she took mere steps before running down a long hallway. Avoiding the scathing glimpses from the portraits that lined the walls.

_Down the hallway past the stairs, pass three doors on the right._

The house shook, and as her body followed suit, apprehension the single thought keeping her body moving. Booming sounds of battle crashed against stone and glass, rattling her senses. She could do this. She _had_ to do this. Her parents' lives were in jeopardy, and she couldn't merely sit by and hope them safe.

_Take a left._

The soles of her shoes skid upon marble flooring as she wheeled about the corner following the final door on her right. The corridor looming before her was dark, ominous, and she tried to contain the shiver of dread she felt.

"Lumos Maxima," she shouted. 

And the hallway sparkled to life with light. Wholly empty. Which made her profoundly suspicious as she paced forward gradually, her eyes swiveling vigilantly. Her wand lofted high in readiness.

_The large door at the end of the hall._

Her heels halted under the gaze of a white, wooden doorway. Golden handles beckoned her to open them and rush within. To her parents on the other side, hopefully not dead. To her mission completion.

" _Protego totalum_ ," she murmured and welcomed the shimmer that settled upon her arm's raised hair, a shielding charm enveloping her.

Her mind needed little convincing now that Death Eater's awaited her on the other side. That a group of evil followers waited in ambush to kill her without a second thought.

And she perceived confusing them with a boisterous entrance may improve her fortunes. Grant her an unexpected edge in their defeat by not showing her fear. But by showing dominance. She inhaled intensely, setting her form as her grip clenched upon her wand.

" _Bombarda_!" She shouted, her wand trained to the ornate doors which flung open, unhinging themselves and launching across the room under the gravity of her spell.

The glowing yellow eyes of a dirty, snarling man met her first; his hands clenched like a beast waiting to strike. Thick hair that resembled fur lined his jaw. His skin was pulled tightly against his cheeks, eyes near slits when they narrowed at her - unsurprised at her presence. His teeth were sharpened like razors as he snarled like a dog.

She'd recognize that dirty, flea-bitten face anywhere: Fenrir Greyback.

Standing alongside Greyback was another man, clad head to toe on pitch-black robes and a white skull mask. Shielding his face from her own. He cackled somewhat, taking a step out from Greyback and withdrawing his wand.

It took mere moments to process her attackers' attitudes before Greyback slumped on all fours, vaulting across the vast chamber toward her. Speedily. Like an animal charging toward prey that it craved to devour. His hungry eyes tunneling into her as he snarled loudly.

Hermione hoisted her wand promptly, discharging a silent _Deprimo_ in his path and shattering open the floor onto which his hands were about to fall. He tumbled somewhat, allowing her time to target her wand and spray a stunning spell at his chest. Which he dodged with hast but faltered in his movement.

His masked partner hurled a bolt of yellow light directly toward her, and Hermione spun. But not swiftly enough. She sensed the sting as her Portego bubble fell apart, forcing her to launch rapid spells at her assailants. Which they skillfully evaded or hindered.

She desperately wished to exercise her earthen magicks. To freeze the ballroom and their eyes, but she begrudgingly acknowledged she couldn't. And with no back up likely to come, her mind focused on not dying.

The masked man hurled spell after spell, which she barred with swift flicks of her hand. They rebounded about the room, smashing against marble pillars and the ground around Greyback, holding him at bay. Assisted dramatically by the stunning spells, which she fired rapidly at the snarling lycanthrope.

Suddenly, a cloud of dark dust accumulated, encompassing the hood figure, and she recognized he was apparating. Greyback's guttural howl rang through the hall as he charged her again. At the same time, a bright orange flash rained from the cloud of darkness that floated through the room.

Attempting to dodge Greyback left her exposed, and the orange spell smashed into her thigh. But she felt little pain. Instead, she noticed the heat bounce off her jeans and crash into the floor before her. Fenrir Greyback hovered frozen in mid-stride, one arm outstretched toward her, nearly touching her, as his eyes began to protrude from his sockets. Blood dripping down his face from his eyes, ears, and nose.

" _Confrigo!_ " a thick, familiar voice chimed as a brilliant flash passed by her head. 

The spell slammed into the cloud of a person who soared about the room. Bouncing his flailing body off a marble pillar as it descended meters to the ground with an echoed thud.

"Hermione!" Moody shouted from the doorway, and an utter relief washed over her.

"I…"

"Move! Into the cellars. Get your parents out. I've got the door."

"...right. Right!" She screeched, her feet launching into action once more, racing as fast as her heart toward the inlaid set of steps on the opposite side of the room.

The steps were many as she descended into the dungeons, where here parents conceivably waited for her. But at the base of the dark, damp stairs, a bared wrought-iron gate persisted in her path.

" _Alohamora_ ," she shouted, but the gate remained cold.

" _Annihilare_ ," she rang again, but the gate did not yield.

" _Dunamis_!" She shouted aloud to no avail. " _Liberare_! _Aberto_! _Emancipare_! _Portaberto_!" She shrieked breathlessly, endeavoring every spell she could muster to move the gate that barred her.

"Gods, please just open!" She wailed, clutching the gate firmly, shaking it.

Suddenly, a loud clicking tolled through the stairwell, and the gate burst open as she shook it inward, causing her to topple to the floor. Standing confusedly, she rocked her head. Refusing to believe the Manor had just accepted her command as law. 

" _Lumos_ ," she spoke breathless, and a sphere of light swam from the tip of her wand to trail the dark, damp corridor before her.

" _Homenum Revelio_ ," she expressed, fear rising in her at the potential of more than two glowing golden dots.

But to her relief, two, singular marks glistened against a far wall. Her feet propelled into motion as the sounds of the battle outside fell away into a somewhat deafening silence that echoed the empty chambers of Hogwarts halls. She walked for some time until her sights befell two forms as she rounded a stone pillar.

She ached to retch as her sights settled onto the damaged, bruised, and bloodied figures of her parents. Both of their hands were shackled above their head as they sat collapsed on the wet floor. Their clothes in tatters and their bodies nearly covered in filth.

Her mother's brilliant curls were missing, her scalp sheered raw and jumbled with cuts. Her face, hands, and neck much the same. Hermione could see the blood discoloring her thighs and wanted to gag at the image of her mother potentially being violated. A few of her delicate fingernails were dripping with blood, ripped from their beds, and both of her eyes were black with bruises.

Her father was no better. The curvature of his nose held dents as the tip lent to the side, his loud breaths tumbling from his lips. Deep gashes marred his chest, his shirt vacant. One of his ears was completely blood-ridden, and most of his skin contaminated with what she assumed was his own blood.

"Mum… dad," Hermione cried, sinking to her knees in front of them.

And much to her surprise, both raised their heads to match her gaze. Slowly and with bloody tears. But they were alive. No matter how imminent their potential death may be, she and the Order had been in time to preserve their lives.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," Hermione sobbed, unfastening their cuffs with a flick of her wand, their arms sinking like rocks to the floor.

"I'll get you out of here," she promised, and her father's cough of blood startled her.

"Her…" he croaked.

"Dad, it's me. I'm so sorry!"

"I love you, Peach..."

"I love you, too," she wailed. "But you have to take this," Hermione commanded, removing the Portkeys from her pocket and depositing one into each of their hands.

" _Instigo_ ," she spoke firmly, but nothing transpired. " _Instigo_!" She shouted anew, but neither of her parents disappeared. Both still sat shaking before her with utter fear in their eyes.

Her mind raced, trying to decipher why the Portkey magic refused to operate as she shoved them back into her pocket. Her parents were not touching one another. No one else was nearby, holding onto them to hinder the magic's correctness. By all accounts, it _should_ work. The Portkeys ought to be lifting her parents from this hell and delivering them to safety.

But the statements of Pip, the tiny house-elf, pealed through her mind then - that he had been locked out of the chamber by Lucius. And if the elf, with his advanced magic, couldn't get _into_ the cellar. Portkeys and apparition wouldn't be capable of _escaping_.

"Mum, Dad, we have to go upstairs. Can you walk?"

"My knee…" her mother's jagged voice scratched through the chamber. "Broken…"

"I'll help. Dad, can you stand?"

Her father nodded somewhat shakily, setting his hands on the floor, pushing himself up the damp cellar wall with immense struggle. 

"This is going to hurt, mum. _Episkey_ ," Hermione intoned with a slight vibration in her tone. Her mother groaned aloud as the audible sound of her knee bones fastened back into place.

"I know mum, I'm sorry," Hermione sobbed. "But we have to go upstairs. Dad, grab her other side," she commanded, wrapping her mother's arm about her shoulders and securely fasting her hand about her waist.

The faint vibrations of magic pitching against the outside of the Manor flittered down the stairs. But no noise came from the room above. And Hermione cried somewhat happily, pleased to know Moody had kept his word to ensure the place was secure.

But Alastor Moody's cold eyes met her vision as she hauled her mother's limping form up the stairs. Before a narly set of legs behind Moody's static head drew her attention. She felt entirely obtuse for not guaranteeing the silence meant safety. How could she have been so hasty?

A highly familiar jet of purple light bubbled from the tip of Antonin Dolohov's wand as Hermione's world spun to a stop. Time seemed to stand still as her body tensed, the ripple of purple fire soaring slowly toward her chest. As if toeing the line of potential destruction made everything infinitely slow.

When her reasoning thrust in, and she made to move, it was too late. The weight of her mother falling forward slightly tied her in place, and Hermione shut her eyes as a piercing shriek ripped through all the sound about her.

She had anticipated the moment of her death. Imagined what it would feel like. She wondered what her mind would trudge forth in the last seconds of her life. But this was wholly distinct to what she expected. Her cognizance simply cleared while waiting for the fiery pain to sear into her bones before the spell suffocated her lungs' life.

But merely an acute strike to her bosom reached her as if an Oger kicked her flat-footed. The oxygen left her lungs instantly as her body bowed forward. She couldn't see straight; her vision was hazy as her air-stifled frame sought to cope with her unexpected survival. Her gasps were powerful, surprising, as a heavy thud sounded beside her head.

"Helen!" Her father's grave, booming cry echoed throughout the somewhat silent chamber.

Hermione's eyes snapped open suddenly, and her world shattered. Stopped on its axis and started to spin in the opposite direction. Seeking to haul her backward to the moment that she sat exposed with Draco Malfoy in a floral shrouded clearing casting an unknown ritual. To change recent history so that the image currently burning into her brain never existed.

Lying next to her, with a stiff, lifeless brown-eyed gaze and a frightened expression was her mother. Unblinking. Unmoving. Eyes uninhabited but yet somehow still pleading not to die.

Her mother's throat had ripped open, littering blood about Hermione's knees, and the sight made bile climb in her throat. How? How could this have happened? The spell had been trained directly at her chest. She should be dead. Not her mother.

The Sapphire, her mind sang as despair filled her gut.

Hermione had forgotten she donned it this morning in further effort to protect herself. The pendant had been the reason the masked Death Eater's spell had ricocheted off her leg minutes before. It was the object that saved her life when Greyback had been near to rip her to shreds.

And now it had murdered her own mother. This was _her_ fault. Her mother was sprawling against the cold marble floor, slowly bathing her lifeless form in her own blood that appeared to flow endlessly.

And it was _all Hermione's fault_.

"No…"

Dolohov's harsh, merciless cackling drew her sluggish attention as her shaking head lifted. He had an indelicate, vicious yet somehow elated snarl on his face as his wand rose again - trained to father. His lips parted to utter a spell to steal the other half of the only blood relatives she had remaining.

"No!" She screamed a guttural screech.

And the room shifted milky white, thick sheets of ice covering the windows as dense, frozen fog descended across the floor. Freezing even Hermione's skin as it floated against the space between her jeans and her shoes.

Jagged, thick ice shared formed, hanging in the air before darting around the room in frantic motion, smashing against and cracking the stone pillars throughout the chamber. 

"No!" She shrieked anew.

And Dolohov's body sprang in convulsion. His eyes were wide, shock manifesting on his features that seemed unable to move. He appeared frozen as her vision tunneled, perceiving nothing but him. His skin began to pale, shifting white as the world around him faded into a tundra.

"No!" She shouted, drawn-out as her cries echoed throughout their sheltered location.

The body of her mother's murderer sank to its knees, ice shards penetrating his flesh repeatedly as lifeblood seeped from his eyes. His nose. From every cut that her utterly unmitigated fury sliced into his skin. And she felt no remorse watching him suffer.

He deserved it. 

Every thick gash of ice that drove into his face. His chest. He merited every ounce of punishment for stealing Hermione's first friend. Her only mother.

A person clouded her vision then, her body shaking as she heard her name's distant sound. A warmth grew across her features as her body hesitated somewhat, heated spots caressing against her shoulders. Her frantic breathing tried to steady itself as the icy sheen began to fade, and her narrowed sights slowly widened. 

"Granger! Granger, wake up!"

Draco? Was that him? Why was he inside the Manor? He was to wait outside. He was supposed to be the one that survived if anything had gone awry. Which it had, severely.

"Hermione! Your dad can't breathe! Hermione, wake up!" 

On a long exhale, Draco's distraught face filled her slowly clearing perception. He looked appalled, horrified, as his pleading voice composed her given name over and over. The whiteness that surrounded his form fading wholly as the Manor's ballroom came fully back into view. Totally destroyed.

"You have to go, Granger. Now! Please!"

But she didn't move. Couldn't. Her entire form was vibrating, shaking with fear and vehemence. Her eyes still felt unfocused as her father's loud gasps for air ricocheted through her brain.

Draco's hands roamed her form then, slipping into her front pocket. Searching for what she couldn't discern as her blank mind tried to process everything around her. He pulled out the three small coins then, his hands shaking as he eyed her mother's listless hand. Draco loosened Helen's fingers slightly, enough to drop the coin in, before pulling back suddenly and withdrawing his wand.

" _Instigo_ ," he whispered as tears tumbled from his eyes, and her mother's body vanished.

His sighted shifted to her father, and he quickly placed a hand on his shoulder. Striving to calm him before sliding the second Portkey into his hand.

"This will be uncomfortable. The people waiting are going to help you! Do not fight them," Draco shouted. " _Instigo_."

She felt ill as the flurry of her father's disappearance wafted against her skin. Her body lingered in the puddle of her mother's blood, her hands trembling as she felt the wetness seep through her jeans. Her mind was wholly vacant as she tried to pull reason from the depths of her brain. To process the last several minutes.

"Granger, I'm going to send you now. Can you hear me?"

But she didn't move, other than to violently shake as relentless dread coursed through her. Draco's hands fell to the sides of her face, his eyes pleading with her before leaning in and kissed her roughly. He was crying desperate, long sobs as he drew back, his gaze piercing through the fog around her as his hands trembled against her face.

"I'm so sorry. Please remember me."

The cold metal of a coin pushed into the palm of her hand as tears tumbled from Draco's eyes.

" _Instigo_ ," he whispered, and her navel felt as though someone had latched a hook about it and hauled her harshly backward.

The world around her spun, Draco's form melding with the walls around him as she finally attempted to reach out. But reality snapped back, and she was dropped coarsely into a snow-covered hill.

The familiar face of Nymphadora Tonks fell into sight as Hermione's eyes welled with tears. She leaned forward suddenly and retched on the cold, frozen ground beneath her. Land tinted, tainted, red with what she identified as her mother's blood.

Tonks' hands grasped her underneath the arms and hauled her up, an utterly dismal grimace on her features before Hermione's vision went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you forget about the Sapphire?? It was always planned in this way, from the moment the story expanded from a one shot. Hope I didn't hurt your feelings too much!
> 
> ALPHA / BETA WANTED!!
> 
> are you reading this fix and thinking "omg I want to know right now what happens!" Or better yet "yikes, this might be steering off course". Then I want you!
> 
> I'm losing my traction on this story and would love someone to talk through plot points with me. Shoot me a comment on here or on Facebook if you are interested! :)


	12. Manors of Destruction, Pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI lovies! I know, I'm awful with updates for this story. But here is Draco's Point of View of the Battle of Malfoy Manor. I hope you do enjoy. Let me know if you're still enjoining this story with a kudo or comment. :)

"Please be safe," she murmured, her eyes threatening tears as they tacked away from his.

Witnessing Hermione disapparate within Lupin's grasp had fragmented Draco's perceptions. His body quivered with indignation as his sights flicked to the ground from where she had just vanished.

He had not witnessed her for two days before stepping into Dumbledore's office this afternoon, where he had been completely overlooked as she paced the room. She hadn't greeted him, though he supposed he didn't utter a word either as he merely perched stiffly waiting for the Order's arrival.

And to be wholly disregarded as a bloody Weasley blundered through the floo had infuriated him. Her eyes had alighted as she gawked at the lanky, impoverished looking man. And Draco keened that she was entirely prepared to accept the first opportunity to be away from him.

He acknowledged deep down that what enticed her to Charlie Weasley was familiarity. Still, he couldn't quell the jealousy or the ferocity that boiled at his fingertips while watching him walk together through the woods. _He_ was the person in which she was thoughtto seek comfort from. Yet, all the two had endured for the past three days were fights and ignorance of one another.

He suffered profound internal blame for being so irate with her for soliciting any measure of familiarity in her time of hopelessness. And exasperation with himself for not having the fortitude to be her calmness.

And standing silently with _that_ Weasley who felt manhandling _his_ soulmate was acceptable slowly swirled crushing cords of anger and resentment within his gut.

A cracking chorus of clashes sounded, surprising his eyes from the earth. His sights fastened to a bright jet of green as it soared through the air, black blemishes dancing across the white stone of the Manor. And Draco's heart leaped into his throat.

Death Eaters.

Death Eaters assailing the Order. Assaulting Hermione. Attacking his mother. Death Eaters who were meant to be at a revel and clear from the castle, according to his godfather.

"Call the elf, Malfoy! Call it now!" A deep voice penetrated the ringing in his ears.

But his body felt frozen. And Draco despised himself for being such a coward, fear undulating through him and causing him to take a step backward as his eyes enlarged. Panic overtook any irritation that remained within his soul and replaced it with utter fear. He loathed the sensation of wishing to turn and run without looking back. For craving to abandon everything meaningful in his life in favor of self-preservation.

And for being such a coward.

"Now!" The redhead shouted, shoving Draco's shoulder and jostling his senses.

"P… Pip...! Pip! Come to me, please!" Draco stammered.

However, no minute popping greeted him. The only noise that echoed the forest around him was the racket of stone shattering under spells he knew were intended to kill Hermione. As the seconds drew on, Draco could feel his throat drying. Could perceive the trembling of his fingers as he pleaded with any deity to make the elves expose themselves.

"Where's the elf?!"

"I… I don't know. Pip, come to me! Trix, Attie, please come to me!" Draco roared.

Long seconds ticked by as dins of mad cackling littered the Manor's gardens, but none of the Malfoy elves heeded their master's call. Draco could see a bright blue shield charm glistening against the white stone facade of the Manor now. The sounds of shrieks and magic booming against his soul. Each cracking blast drowning out his own thoughts, mounting total fear into his psyche.

Panic rose so swiftly within him, he couldn't stop his feet as they sprang into action. Setting a course for the front door.

But a set of powerful, leather-covered arms wrapped around his shoulders, hauling his kicking form back into the cover of the forest. Binding his arms to his frame as he was forced to the ground. Draco tried to struggle free, but the Weasley's grip crushed against him, holding him in place.

"You cannot run into a battle!" Weasley cried, holding Draco on the ground with pure brawn.

"My mother! Hermione!"

"Hermione will be fine! The Order will get your mother!"

"They'll kill her!"

"They won't kill your mother!"

"They kill Hermione! Let me go! Get off of me!"

"You are underage! I cannot let you go!"

Draco sensed a wildfire burning inside him then. A twist of terror and wrath licking at every pore, his body quaking as flashes of spells lit the night sky like a raging thunderstorm. Weasley had pulled his hands behind his back, bound by one hand while the other pressed his torso into the ground.

The sensation of heat on his fingertips felt so natural as his body heated. Directly into his hands and lit the clearing dramatically as fire burst against the redhead's hand.

"Bloody fucking hell!" Weasley shouted, his hands withdrawing suddenly as his cries of pain echoed around them.

Draco's deterrent collapsed to the soil with loud shrieks, attempting to clutch his hand, but failing as gnarly blisters began to form. He would survive, Draco thought, as he vaulted from the dirt and thrust his feet once again toward Narcissa. Toward Hermione. Panic and carelessness propelling his body forward through the rain of spell dust.

Two brilliant sparks of white light blazed against the Manor's darkness, launching into the air from the doorstep as he ran forward. Clearing an unwitting pathway directly through the front entrance of his ancestral home. Draco withdrew his wand swiftly as the Manor's shadow enveloped him, noticing a still form on the porch.

He wanted to retch as he stumbled upon Ted Tonks' lifeless frame. Eyes still widened and gawking up at him accusatorially. Draco had only just today met the man who had enthralled his estranged aunt over twenty years ago. He'd greeted Draco with nothing but kindness and firm handshakes when Hermione had disappeared from the chamber. Regaled him with details of his cousin Nymphadora and her childhood. He commended Draco for his courage to go against his family's tradition.

And now he was dead. As quickly as Draco had met him, he was no longer wandering a happy life. And it was Draco's own fault.

A deep burgundy flash smashed against the concrete to his left, starling Draco and jostling him inward, into the mouth of the Manor. Lupin's bloody face greeted him, shrouded in a blue _Protego_ as he fought back two black-clad and masked Death Eaters.

No other bodies occupied the room, but a shimmering, thick ward glistened against the ballroom's hallway. And Draco knew Hermione was already on the other side, on the way to her parents. Acknowledged that he likely wouldn't be able to get through the barrier to reach her. And he could only hope Moody was beside her for safekeeping.

Draco lifted his wand quickly, discharging a silent stunner at the back of the more massive Death Eater, who sailed forward and slumped to the floor. But he did not wait for the second Death Eater to react before vaulting up the stairs past him, taking two steps at a time.

"Malfoy!" Draco overheard Lupin yell, followed by a litany of spell's illumination cascading against the stairwell walls.

Not slowing to acknowledge the summons, Draco slid around the corner and set his feet in motion. Down the long hallways of the west wing toward his mother's room. Running past busts of former Malfoy's and sneering portraits that hung against the high walls. Passing windows that flashed as though electricity was crashing against the ground.

Draco slowed his movements as he neared Narcissa's entryway, casting a quick silencing charm on his shoes in precaution. Two black-robed figures waited outside her room as he peered about the corner. One delicately attempted to untangle a thick layer of wards that shimmered undamaged each time he moved to a new section. And the second, smaller figure stood lamely against the wall beside him, head bobbing slightly as they nodded their head to music that wasn't there.

As Draco's eyes investigated the corridor for more figures, bile rose in his throat as his sights befell the lifeless forms of three small house-elves. Three of the only real friends he had growing up. Three little elves that helped raise him throughout his childhood.

Murdered. 

Their eyelids were wide apart as their faces remained crumpled in disbelief and determination. They seemed cold, a grayness covering their lifeless skin as if they'd laid there for days.

Draco felt a quake of rage undulate within him, snarling silently as he tried not to scream. Trying to focus his thoughts again, his eyes scanned the corridor for something to alight, settling on a tapestry of the first Abraxas Malfoy sitting on a warhorse in battle. And the frayed edges rippled to life as a dark red flame engulfed the fabric within seconds.

"What the…" the smaller Death Eater sputtered in a low voice.

"Put it out, moron!" The larger Death Eater snarled, swiping the back of his hand across his forehead.

"If you'd hurry up!" a profoundly familiar feminine voice lamented as she shoved off the wall dramatically, training her wand toward the tapestry.

Pansy Parkinson.

Draco seized the opportunity of his created distraction to discharge a stunning spell toward the Death Eater, who feverishly sought to break through the wards into his mother's room. His form flung sideways at the weight of Draco's spell, knocking into Pansy's legs and causing her to bend unnaturally at the knees with a loud shriek.

And Draco felt no remorse as he hurled a stunning spell at the back of her head, causing her to lurch forward and smack her masked face against the marble floor. The resounding crack of metal on polished stone did nothing to soothe his distaste, however. He wanted to do more. He craved to annihilate her for the part she played in Hermione's torture. But the house shook slightly as it was scattered with spells, and his eyes snapped to the ward outside his mother's door.

" _Incarcerous_ ," and thick strands of magic burst from the tip of his wand, wrapping about his unconscious adversaries tightly.

"Mother!" Draco screamed as he hurried to her door. "Mother! It's me! Let me in!"

Soundlessness pervaded the corridor, and Draco groaned. He'd have to manage to break wards put in place by his mother or his godfather, one heavily skilled in the art of protection and deflection and the other holding a mind that refused to relent when put to the test. All while managing not to die.

But as his wand shakily pressed into the first layer of wards, the magic seemed to shatter before his eyes. Shimmers or the wards' existence fell to the marble floor in waves as the barrier collapsed. Whether it was his mother's doing or his godfather's ingenuity, he wasn't sure, but Draco forced open his mother's chamber door and rushed inside, slamming it behind him.

Narcissa was leaning against the wall, her naturally pale skin seeming grayer as her clouded eyes met his. And terror nearly caused him to retch in the middle of her room. She looked weak, drained, and in need of serious help as her shaking figure slumped against her wall.

"Draco…" her feeble voice whispered as she inhaled deeply, eyes closing and opening slowly.

"Mother, what happened?"

"I'm tired, my dragon," she whispered. "I have been holding the wards for days. The elves?"

"Dead... Can you apparate?" he asked hurriedly.

But his mother's head lulled without a hindrance as she passed out against the wall. Her body slumped suddenly, and Draco vaulted across the room. He slid his hands underneath her arms and lowered her to the floor, setting her back against the wall gingerly. Her chest was rising slowly, meagerly, but she was still alive, and he felt a wave of relief wash over him.

The house shook again as the sky outside of Narcissa's window blazed with spellfire. And Draco knew there was one singular way to get his mother out of the Manor safely. Without having to transport her limp form through raining bolts likely meant to kill them all.

Draco clamored with his pocket, fingers shaking a touch as he withdrew his Portkey. Breathes heavy with uncertainty, he unfurled his mother's hand, nesting the Portkey within her grasp securely. Draco leaned in and delicately kissed his mother's forehead for one last effort of emotion, if he couldn't say goodbye, before training his wand to her hand. Releasing her with great hesitation.

" _Instigo_ ," he uttered, and the wind of his mother's disappearance waft against his sweaty skin.

But the wash of relief he had expected when his mother's safety was assured didn't overwhelm him. His thoughts immediately slipped to Hermione in his ballroom cellar, striving to find her parents.

Pansy was still firmly trapped underneath the larger Death Eater as Draco drove back into the hallway. Ensuring both were still unconscious, he permitted his feet to carry him back down the winding corridors and down the stairs into the foyer. Which was entirely empty, both Death Eaters and Lupin missing.

And the ward that had secured the hallway leading to the ballroom was gone.

A mixture of anxiety and determination drew Draco's feet into the long hallway beside the stairs, passing three doors on the right before taking a sharp left. A raucous sound of gale permeated the corridor as he ran forward, confusing him a touch. The doors of the ballroom were missing, hinges askew when he finally reached the end of the hall.

But the sight on the inside was what genuinely drew his astonishment. The noise pervading the hallway and ballroom wasn't wind, it was an ice storm. An absolutely deafening, dry, deadly flux of fury.

Hermione was on her knees at the precipice of the cellar stairs, swirled by shards of ice, blizzarding flakes of snow, and a rather large puddle of red. Her curls appeared white, layered with a thin sheet of ice that echoed the coating over the walls and windows.

Draco's sights expanded then, taking in the whole scene. On the opposite side of the room, Antonin Dolohov's body shook at the center of the raging storm, Moody's lifeless body before him. His skin looked gray, absorbed in against his bones as his eyes protruded from his sockets. Red dirtied the expanse of his skin as jagged ice shared shredded through his form repeatedly.

He was undoubtedly dead.

And when Draco's eyes descended on the woman's form at the base of Hermione's knees, everything clicked. Her mother was lying motionless, blood spewing from her throat in liters from deep gashes as Hermione's figure fluttered with ferocity.

A burly man on the opposite side of Hermione's mother's inanimate form had his mouth widened. He seemed to be grasping for his daughter's shoulder, but his movements were slow. Ice shards were avoiding him, frenzying about the space but evading his form entirely. But his chest wasn't rising and falling sufficiently enough for Draco to view from across the room. His hands were trembling, and it was apparent he couldn't breathe.

And if Hermione didn't stop, she'd likely kill her own father. It was his fault that her mother was now dead, and he refused to permit the loss of her father, too. She'd squander every ounce of the person she was if she was liable for her own father's demise.

Draco inhaled once, set his shoulders, and took a timid step into the tempest toward Hermione. He was shocked to welcome the feel of water smacking against his skin when he expected shortness of breath and the sharp sting of ice. It was uncomfortable, biting pricks of liquid searing against his exposed skin, but he was able to move freely as his form heated to keep him alive. So, he ran, footsteps silent in the onslaught of sound as he slid to a stop before her, lowering to his knees.

"Granger!"

Hermione's eyes were solid white, and she resembled a hauntingly beautiful force of nature. Her lips were pale, blue, and stretched into a profound sneer that wrinkled her entire nose. Her body was shaking viciously as ice trailed down the expanse of her cheeks, dangling frozen fractal from her chin.

"Granger! Please wake up!" He roared, lowering his hands to her shoulders.

And it felt like _he_ was on fire for the first time - the sort of burn when an absolute deep freeze burrowed into your bones. His skin throbbed as frost billowed from their joined bodies, throwing clouds of scathing steam. But he shook Hermione nonetheless, seething through the pain that was minuscule in comparison to her own.

"Granger! Granger! Granger, wake up!

Her face twitched violently then, her hand jerking slowly, her fingers flinching as her head started to move. Her head rocked side to side as if looking around him because she couldn't view her intended target. The blaring noise of the blizzard seemed to quell the slightest as her perceptions faltered, but her father was still gasping desperately for air.

"Hermione! Your father can't breathe! Hermione, wake up!" 

The moment his voice echoed father, her body lurched forward some, but her cloudy eyes were still trained to Draco's chest. Trying to stare straight through him. The white of her eyes began to fade to a light shade of gray, her pupils gradually forming anew, and Draco called out her name. Striving to extract her from her current mania.

Her father slumped to the floor suddenly, as the blizzard of snow shifted slowly to a fluttering of flakes. His gasps were still profound as he clutched his chest, the color of his skin slowly returning as he trembled. Rocking slowly in a puddle of his own wife's blood.

"You have to go, Granger. Now! Please!"

But she seemed incapable of moving. Her body merely shook mightily. She was absolutely incapable of anything, Draco realized. And thus, he let his hands roamed her form, slipping into her front pocket where he had seen her store her Portkeys. Her brow furrowed somewhat as her milky eyes leisurely scanned his figure, lingering on his face for a heartbreaking moment.

Shifting the three small coins from her pocket, his shoulders shook as he eyed her mother's lifeless hand. The cold metal of the coins felt as though they were searing a hole into his palm, his hands shaking as he loosened Hermione's mother's fingers. Just enough to drop the coin within and clamp her fist closed, before pulling back and training his wand.

" _Instigo_ ," he whispered, and he sensed the tears plunging from his eyes as her mother vanished.

His sights shifted to her father then, and he swiftly settled a hand on the man's shoulder. His jagged gasps were abating somewhat as his terrified eyes met Draco's, but there was little time to calm him further. He forced the Portkey into the man's hand and clamped his fist closed. Hermione's father's eyes scanned Draco with unmitigated fear as he strived to catch his breaths.

"This will be uncomfortable. The people waiting are going to help you! Do not fight them," Draco shouted, removing his hand and training his wand on the man's chest. " _Instigo_."

And as the wind of his Portkey washed over them, Hermione lifted her red, bloody hands from the floor. She trembled uncontrollably as her gaze turned between her hands and Draco's face gradually. He wanted to pull her into his chest, embrace her tightly, and guarantee everything was alright. But it wasn't, and he had little time to hold her. Nevertheless, he swept his hands to the sides of her face as tears swelled in his eyes anew.

As realization dawned that this could be the last time he ever saw his soulmate.

Draco enticed her head forward and connected their lips somewhat coarsely out of utter urgency. Complete hopelessness. Trying to persuade her in the smallest way possible how sorry he was. How totally in love with her that he felt. When he drew back, her eyes were wholly unfogged, and she looked entirely disoriented.

"I'm so sorry. Please remember me."

His voice shook behind his deep tears as he urged the cold metal of her Portkey into the palm of her hand.

" _Instigo_."

For a moment, she seemed as though she wished to reach out for him, but she was gone in an instant. And he immediately hunched forward, hands falling into the blood pooled about his knees as he vomited on the floor. His shoulders trembled as he promptly plucked his hands from the redness below him, an absolute disgust and the iron stench of blood causing him to retch over.

Hermione was safe. And his mother was safe.

But he was forgotten in the Manor, likely to his demise. He knew the Order members would not come for him. Moody and Ted Tonks were dead, Lupin had vanished, he'd burned the Weasley himself, and who knew to where the others had apparated. His only hope for survival was to progress to the opposite end of the Manor, to the single floo connection outward, if it hadn't been blocked before their arrival.

Because he was ancillary. He knew he wasn't necessary to prevent the Dark Lord's future onslaught. His life was insignificant in comparison to Hermione's. Or to Potter's. Hell, even the Weasley clan had more of a purpose than Draco did.

So without his Portkey to the safe house that his mother hopefully waited within, he was a goner. No one would be coming back for him in time. He'd be dead long before they realized he hadn't escaped.

"Pathetic," a familiar drawl reverberated through the ice battered hall.

Draco's fist clenched, blood forcing through his fingers' gaps as his sights locked to his father standing in the doorway, clutching his snakehead cane a bit tighter than he used to.

Lucius looked deranged. His face was the portrait of repugnance as he hobbled through the opening where his precious white wooden double doors had been. Although his clothing was perfectly pressed, he appeared unkempt. It seemed as though he had yet to wipe the Azkaban cell grime from under his eyes, though it could have been beaten so far into his skin that cleansing it was no longer plausible.

The long, platinum hair he once wore was sheered nearly to his scalp, the faded scars against his forehead and hairline clearer than when he had received them after the Dark Lord's return. His cane struck heavily on the floor as he limped through the room, pausing meters away and jeering down at his only soon.

" _Lucius_ ," Draco snarled, bile still lacing the walls of his throat.

"A shame she survived," Lucius sang. "But her family's blood on my floor is prize enough."

Anger forced through Draco's soul as his father's nasty cackle inundated the room. He could feel the heat rolling off himself, and noticed the ice around the room raining to the ground. Either Lucius could no longer perceive magic, or he was too demented to care.

Draco stood suddenly, firing a non-verbal _Diffindo_ at his father. Lucius waved his wand with a wicked sneer, but Draco could see the wince in his lips as his spell appeared to ricochet away. Not fully back at himself, so he acknowledged that he had managed some sliver of damage even if the blood did not ripple to the outermost layer of his father's suit.

"Blood traitor!" Lucius screeched, lofting his wand suddenly.

A blinding yellow light broke from the tip, as Draco jumped aside, dodging the spell with a quickness. A profound ache coursed through his veins, a fire begging to be freed. His fingers tingled with a desire to simply light his scum of a father aflame. But he knew he couldn't expose himself.

"The Dark Lord wishes to kill you himself, or I'd kill you like I killed those elves," Lucius said nonchalantly.

"I should have known it was you," Draco growled.

"Oh, the child has found a voice," Lucius cackled dementedly, thrashing his wand suddenly and knocking Draco's feet backward from underneath him.

Draco could feel the tissues of his shin undulating with pain as he held his hands out to catch himself before smacking into the marble flooring. His pants were ripped when he glanced back, and a visible gash was spewing a slow stream of blood down his right leg.

"Couldn't stand that something so inferior was protecting Mother?" Draco snarled with utter vehemence as he pushed himself up slowly, seething a touch as his leg throbbed.

"Ah, yes, that insufferable cunt who spawned the most useless heir," his father cackled.

And it wasn't the slight at himself that pushed a new course of rage through him, but the distaste toward his mother. He could feel his teeth grating as a snarl plastered across his features, but Lucius didn't seem to care. 

"It's a shame I couldn't kill your bitch of a mother, too," Lucius grinned.

And the last string of Draco's restraint shattered. He hoisted onto his feet swiftly, his wand discharging spell after spell at Lucius as the walls behind him erupted in flame. Heating away any wetness that had lingered behind Hermione's breakdown. Lucius appeared disoriented, his shield charms projecting spells every which way, allowing small slices to pass by. Slowly cutting open his skin along the exposed expanse of his ghostly form.

Draco could hear the fire roaring through his brain, the only thought buzzing through his mind was ensuring Lucius felt pain. To ensure the man who was meant to be a father knew what it was like to be victimized by someone expected to love him.

Lucius' movements began to lag, a measure of alarm evident on his face as he tried to focus on deflecting his own son's onslaught. Draco noticed his labored breaths as spells rippled quickly from his wand, thanking Hermione for her persistent nagging to train. Lucius faltered for a moment, his cane slipping from his hand as he tried to hurry backward, and Draco took the opportunity.

" _Confringo!_ " 

And the orange bolt that rippled from his wand smashed into Lucius' chest, dead center. He lifted from his feet, launching backward under the weight of Draco's spell and slapped against a marble pillar, slumping forward with his eyes closed.

Draco snarled to himself as his temper drew him toward his father's prone form, training his wand to the back of Lucius' head. He evidently didn't mean the spell enough, or his father would have painted the white walls of his Manor red.

He could do it. End the man that caused him so much pain. If he took no one else down before he died, he could eliminate the man who had ruined his childhood and tried to destroy his adulthood. The man who taught him anything less than pure blood was infected and that the lowers should be cleansed from the world. The man who lied to him so perilously for so many years and prompted such deep distress.

"That's enough!"

Draco's eyes snapped to the doorway, from where Severus' voice sounded, the light of his wand washing an opening through the flames into the ballroom. Flames Draco hadn't realized were now a raging blaze. Exposing him and his power directly to any Death Eaters who happened along.

Draco's wand hand shook with hesitation, trepidation, as his godfather's voice resonated against his eardrums. Eyes darting back and forth between his true father and the surrogate who truly loved him. And he felt the slump of his arms as his shoulders sagged.

He couldn't do it. No matter how badly he wished Lucius dead, he couldn't end the man's life when confronted with an opportunity.

"We must go, Draco! Now!" Severus roared at his side, his approach unheard, drawing Draco by the collar.

Draco nodded dumbly, allowing his godfather to pull him through the hollow hall, which Draco now realized was coming apart under a blaze of red and blue flames. The room's heat was dripping sweat off his Severus' brow as he waved his wand, opening their exit one more. 

"Ava…" 

"Expelliarmus!" Severus shouted, spinning swiftly with his wand pointed directly to Lucius, catching his father's wand as it flung through the air.

"Couldn't even kill me… Pathetic," Lucius spluttered, blood trickling from his nose and mouth as he spat indignantly on the marble floor.

"We have differing opinions of what makes one pathetic, old man," Severus snarled, throwing Lucius' wand against the raging fire.

A somewhat gleeful satisfaction spread within Draco as he listened to his father's wand scream as it was engulfed in his flames. He was shoved forward then, his eyes lingering on Lucius's snarling prone form with a grin meant to show him he no longer held power. Severus hauled him through the door and dragged him by the arm down the long hallway. They hardly made it halfway to the foyer before his world was spinning.

His godfather's apparition fell away, and they were standing in the center of a bright city Draco had never before observed. The colossal mingling of roads and pavement was wholly empty as bright lights fluttered against buildings around him. But they weren't stationary for long.

He felt his world spin anew, grounding in front of an unfamiliar house. Severus drew him inside quickly, and Draco noticed the thick sheets over the furniture and the deep line of dust across the mantle. Severus shoved him into the hearth and climbed in next to him, clutching his arm and throwing down a handful of floo powder.

His godfather's voice sounded, but Draco couldn't understand the words he spoke as green engulfed them. And he fell through the hearth in a bright, quaint sitting room painted in a soft yellow. A floral couch and a deep emerald green armchair were vacant, and a glittering Christmas tree pervaded the corner. In front of a large window that overlooked a moonlit, snow-covered garden beyond.

"Oh, Draco!" His mother's gut-churning cry sounded as his head finished spinning.

"What were you thinking?" Severus roared, hauling him away and pushing Draco against the wall with an arm over his chest.

"I wasn't," Draco said plainly, his hands shaking somewhat as his mind tried to process the past thirty minutes.

"You set the estate on fire! You were to _hide!_ "

Draco's eyes examined his godfather's face, seeking a match to the anger in his tone. But Severus merely appeared as though he might cry, his expression crumpled with fear that hadn't been there when he was at the Manor. He still held a sneer, but his lips were quivering behind his snarl.

Lips that Draco belatedly realized were surrounded in cuts and bruises. His godfather was absolutely dirty, his hair more manic than usual, holding sticks and smatterings of dirt. His generally perfectly pressed robes were in tatters in more places than not, and blood was seeping from one sleeve. Echoing the blood that trickled down his cheek. 

"I couldn't hide. Mother couldn't get out," Draco stated quietly, his eyes cast downward in scolding.

"It's true, Severus. They killed the elves!" Narcissa offered.

"And the fire? Showing your power when you were expressly forbidden?"

"I lost control…"

"Inexcusable!"

"Severus! Release him! He is alive. That is all that matters."

Severus' grip on his collar wavered for a moment, his watery eyes searching Draco's distraught face. But Draco hadn't expected to be hauled into his godfather's chest, roughly, as his mentor wrapped him in a crushing hug. His body was shaking some as he cried silently into Draco's shoulder, his arms clutching his godson firmly.

Draco felt slightly out of place, having no experience with a man of prominence in his life offering him unfiltered affection. Unmitigated emotion. And as the enormity of the night washed over him, he circled his arms about Severus' torso as his own jagged sobs saturated the air.

"You did well… son," Severus whispered, and Draco couldn't quell the tears that trailed down his cheeks.

He sensed his mother's delicate hand on his shoulder then. Another layer of support as his dread began to subside. She had a soft yet troubled expression on her features when Severus ultimately released him. And she replaced the spot his godfather had relinquished.

"Mother," Draco whispered on a long exhale, enveloping his arms completely about his mother's delicate frame.

"What were you thinking, darling?" She cooed, her own voice cracking with shed tears.

"I had to ensure you lived."

"Foolish boy. Your life is more precious than mine."

"Hermione? Is she here?" Draco asked urgently. 

"She is here and safe. Upstairs undergoing treatment alongside her father. She fell unconscious when landing in the Portkey location."

"Will she be okay?" Draco queried with concern, hoping his actions hadn't harmed her further.

"Yes, though Poppy says her magic is quite depleted. She will need to rest for the remainder of the week in recovery." 

"Her mother?" Draco inquired hesitantly, but Narcissa's face simply crumpled, a small shake of her head as her eyes watered anew.

"How dare you show your face here!"

Standing in the doorway was a young woman, hair completely flat and black, and she had thick tears gushing down her cheeks. She looked vicious as she lofted her wand, and Draco held a small inclination of who this was. He wished her wand was raised to him for his role in her father's death. Instead, it was trained on Severus. His mother spun then, using her small frame to shield as much of both of her men as she could.

"Nymphadora, please," his mother pleaded.

" _Don't call me that!"_ She snarled.

"Dora!" Another woman shouted, rushing into the sitting room.

And Draco nearly fell backward in shock. She resembled Bellatrix Lestrange almost identically, but this woman somehow appeared softer. More amenable with just mere seconds of her presence. But her face was wholly red, an echo of her bloodshot eyes as she stepped to his cousin's side. Nymphadora nearly collapsed into the woman's outstretched arms as she extracted the wand from her sobbing girl's hand.

There was no doubt in his mind now - they were currently standing in the Tonks household, and his mother's sister Andromeda had just trudged through the door.

Remus Lupin followed mere seconds later, his wand unrelentingly hoisted on Draco, Narcissa, and Severus. His godfather stepped around his mother then, shielding them both behind himself, even though he was almost limping in movement. 

"What happened, Severus?"

"He tested me. And I failed."

"Do not speak in riddles!" Lupin shouted, and Draco felt nausea bubble within him as the Order member's wand jabbed forward a touch.

"The Dark Lord gave me false information! And I played right into his hand for the first time in nearly twenty years. I almost lost my entire family tonight!"

"I _did_ lose my family tonight! Because of you! Dad's death is your fault!"

Draco felt himself recoil at his cousin's vehemence. As the lifeless gaze of her father floated to the forefront of his mind. A dead stare that was _his_ fault and not his godfather's. A stale gaze that would be burned into his brain forever.

"What happened?" Lupin sought anew.

"The revel was a rouse. When I apparated outside of Wellingborough, I emerged into the midst of wand fire. He provided me false information to lure you out. And… and I didn't see it."

"And how can we trust you?" Lupin snarled, and Draco thought he could see the man's fangs protruding past the teeth next to them.

"Ask Jones. The Aurors showed and allotted time for my escape. I will submit to Veritaserum should you require."

"You will stay in the basement until I can verify your story," Lupin stated plainly. "I will not hesitate to kill you if you are lying, spy."

"Remus!" Andromeda charged with a harshness.

"Do you disagree?" Lupin growled anew.

"Take Dora upstairs! Now!" The regal woman commanded.

Remus Lupin's snarl was nearly guttural, and Draco was sure his fangs grew each time he bore them. The coming full moon's impact was evident as he thrashed his wand downward, spinning and enveloping Nymphadora quickly into his arms. Her sobs deepened into his chest, and he lifted her, carrying her from the room without a backward glance.

"'Meda...," his mother spoke softly from over his godfather's shoulder.

"'Cissa, I would love to meet your son."

"Andromeda, I apologize. I've…" Severus started, but Draco's aunt held up her hand to halt him.

"I do not wish to do this now, Severus. There has been too great a loss tonight. I would appreciate one moment of happiness in meeting my only nephew."

"Of course," Severus bowed his head deeply, stepping aside.

"'Cissa, it has been too long," Andromeda said softly.

"And that is my fault," his mother responded, rushing forward abruptly and enveloping her sister in a hug.

"It is not your fault, dear sister," Andromeda whispered, encircling her arms about Narcissa shoulders as her hand fell to her sister's head, stroking lovingly.

"I am so sorry, 'Meda," Narcissa sobbed.

"You can atone by introducing my nephew," Andromeda cooed, pushing Narcissa back warmly and setting a soft hand on her face.

"Of course," his mother sniffled. "Draco," she stated, turning and holding out a hand for him to join the pair of sisters.

He felt odd pacing toward a woman he knew nothing of, on which he had only heard awful tales of betrayal. A strange sensation coursed through him at being sheltered in her home after being responsible for her husband's death. And he was somewhat astonished by how welcoming her small smile remained as he walked to his mother's side with a near grimace.

"'Meda, this is my son, Draco."

"It is so lovely to meet you," Andromeda smiled, sticking out her hand.

"As it is you," Draco replied, holding out his hand but hesitated to accept hers when he realized he was still covered in blood.

"Why don't I show you to your room?" Andromeda said softly, eyeing his hands with tears in her eyes.

"Please," Narcissa responded composedly.

His aunt turned then, indicating the doorway behind her. Draco and Narcissa followed closely, up a quaint staircase that was lined with family photos. Pictures of the Tonks line littered the walls, showing their happiness on a wooden boat and on a beach. Smaller images of a young Nymphadora with yellow hair eating ice cream and blue hair being pushed on a swing scattered the stairwell. And Draco felt a measure of jealousy at the visible love the family shared.

Soft weepings echoed down a small, charming hallway as the trio reached the precipice. And Draco felt another measure of guilt course over him as the images lingered in his mind.

"This will be your room, Narcissa," Andromeda said unobtrusively, pushing open the door at the end of the hallway.

It was quaint, a simpleness lingering just like the rest of the home. A floral coverlet was draped over a small bed at the center of the far wall, sided by a tiny coat likely meant for himself. A short wooden chest of drawers perched next to a little window, opposite a door Draco assumed to be a bathroom. His eyes linger on the cot for a moment before noticing the pile of clothes atop it.

"I'm sorry, it is all we have with the house so full."

"We appreciate everything, 'Meda. Don't we, Draco?" His mother queried.

"Yes, thank you for your kindness," Draco acknowledged, eyes cast downward as he nodded tersely, striving not to cry.

"I'm sure you will be returning to Hogwarts tomorrow, but you are welcome here anytime you wish," his aunt responded quietly.

"Darling, you should wash. I need to speak to Severus," his mother stated, setting her hand on his arm and startling him.

"Of course," he responded quietly.

"Good night, darling."

"Good night, mum."

Both of the Black women nodded, placing soft hands on his shoulder as they turned and trudged back down the stairs in inaudible whispers. The small door was, in fact, a bathroom as Draco paced inside. So he allowed himself to linger a long while beneath a scathing stream of water. Scrubbing his skin cruelly with deep sobs as he cleansed away his own and Hermione's mother's blood.

The clothing waiting on his cot were large, and it was evident they were Ted Tonks'. And the shame he felt laying down in the small cot made his sobs deepen. And intensify further as he thought of Hermione and all she had lost that night. Wishing he could find her in the house and hold her, but assuming she did not want to see him again. He laid there mulling over his failures until utter exhaustion rolled over his mind, and he slipped into a fitful slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALPHA / BETA WANTED!!
> 
> are you reading this fix and thinking "omg I want to know right now what happens!" Or better yet "yikes, this might be steering off course". Then I want you! I'm losing my traction on this story and would love someone to talk through plot points with me. Shoot me a comment on here or on Facebook if you are interested! :)
> 
> Also - I may rewrite Hermione's portion of this story, because she seemed very meek and not BAMF as I wanted.


	13. Immortal Arsehole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovies! I hope you enjoy this chapter. I would like to thank whith96 for her lovely work as coming on as an Alpha for this story! Thank you for your feedback on this chapter.
> 
> I'd love to tell you all how much is left of this story, but I do not know. Technically, this marks chapter 13 / 19 in my outline. But who knows how many will come through the muse before the end. Hopefully sticking to 19 but we'll see! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are immensely appreciated.

_An unusual crow's caw overhead drew Hermione's attention as she stood in a desolate garden, containing at its middle a waterfall that flowed from no source. Nevertheless, it rained black liquid into a murky void below. And suddenly, just beyond the waterfall of the dismal storm, a shabby, wooden shanty emerged. The decayed entryway door gradually, eerily cracked open as her feet propelled toward it unwillingly, as if an unseen force were beckoning her._

_An unrecognizable figure materialized abruptly, eye sockets hollow with skin that was sunken against bone. But a gnarly snarl, revealing black and crooked teeth, was evident as the shape motioned her in with a hooked finger. Through a looming shadow, into which it disappeared, leaving her wholly alone as she passed into a large, blindingly white room._

_Echoes of terror-filled shrieks reverberated against the sterile walls as a staircase emerged at Hermione's right, the stairwell's darkness a stark contrast to the glossy whiteness. Her legs wobbled as she tried to will them still; however, her feet dragged her toward the ominous obscurity without her acquiescence. And her lungs ceased to function when her sights crash-landed on her parents' ragged forms at the summit._

_Panic erupted as her mother and father appeared to fade away quickly. And she glanced down, realizing suddenly that her feet were striving to ascend the stairs. However, the flooring beneath her felt slippery, prompting her shoes to lose grip more than once. Never-ending screams reverberated around her, though she couldn't see either of her parent's jaws moving. Although, their faces did show remarkable despair as their hands outstretched toward their daughter pleadingly._

_As she took each next step, Hermione felt transported backward toward her starting point. An endless loop of agony coursed through her as the stairs glistened and rippled red. And suddenly, when she should have reached the zenith, the stairs flattened downward, and she slid wholly back to the white room below. Her back landed unyieldingly against the floor, thumping whatever air she did possess from her lungs with a loud gasp._

_A cold gale penetrated her form as she laid prone on the dense white floor, powerless to move. Odd flakes of snow settling on her skin, but they felt like embers of flames searing fire against her flesh as she tried to breathe deeply. But it seemed hopeless. And a new layer of wetness swiftly made itself known._

_From the floor, she noticed a gushing river of red rushing down the stairs, slowly saturating the room. Wetness seeped through her clothes before it slowly, painfully, sank into her ears. The liquid was boiling against her skin as it rose gradually, pore by pore, and just before it surrounded her eyes, she took in a jagged, sharp inhale and shut her lids tightly._

Hermione's eyes snapped wide, and she felt as though she couldn't breathe. Fear undulated within her, heart hammering against her ribs as her sights darted left and right about the room. Her vision was wholly unfocused as she endeavored to catch her breath, an immense sensation of overwhelming grief resting on her chest, making it more painful to inhale deeply. 

The room was utterly unfamiliar, which forced another wave of terror through her. Hermione couldn't immediately identify where she was or how she ended up within the pale blue walls of the room in which she currently laid. Or whose bed held her snuggly under a soft, heavy coverlet. Or Merlin, if she was even awake. 

But as her perception slowly adjusted, her nightmare gradually slipping to the background of her consciousness, her heart rate slowed and she recognized Charlie Weasley perching at her bedside. He had an ankle placed across his opposite knee and a reflective look on his face. He appeared tired as his eyes studied the pages of a small book within his hands - a novel she recognized as one she'd loaned him years earlier. 

"Charlie?" 

He spooked then, his eyes fastening to her as he closed his book, drifting toward her to the edge of his seat. "'Mi, you're awake." 

"Where am I?" 

"The Tonks' household." 

"Tonks…" 

Visions of a lifeless, surprised pair of eyes floated to the top of her mind then. The scene of Ted Tonks falling to the earth, his mouth open slightly in confusion as he slumped before her, stone smashing about her head. 

"Oh, my gods…" Hermione muttered, and the tears she had been shedding in her dream seeped from the realness of her eyes. 

Charlie stood promptly, settling beside her on the reasonably small mattress as he enveloped his arms about her shoulders. Sturdy limbs drew her in close as memories of her fleeting moments spent inside Malfoy Manor trudged to the forefront of her psyche. 

Vivid recollections of walking through the forest surrounding the Manor next to Charlie, behind the Auror members who were there to help save her parents, replayed in Hermione's mind. Apparating to the porch and watching poor Ted unsuspectingly murdered within seconds. The crashing sounds the spell made and the mad cackle that resounded from the blackness of the grounds. The guttural wail that Lupin howled as he forced her inside. 

The loud thump of her feet on the marble floors as she ran. The feeling of panic as she burst through the ballroom doors, met with the nasty snarl of Fenrir Greyback and whoever had been beside him. 

Hermione shuddered, recalling the werewolf's eyes bulging from their sockets as he tried to maul her. The blood that had dropped down his jowls as he appeared to accept what she believed had been his death. A near peaceful smile gracing his face as Moody slammed the Death Eater from the air. 

Tear-soaked sobs shook her body as the recollections continued to crash forward from her psyche. Visions of her parents battered forms as they hung limply from the walls of the damp cellar. The blood on their hands, their faces, her mother's thighs, and her father's scalp so vivid Hermione believed she could smell iron in the air. 

Her memory seemed hazy following, only flashes of red. But she knew what the crimson was and from where it had come. 

"My… mum," she lamented loudly. 

And she could sense every ounce of despair within her seeping out of her pores. Her mother was dead. And the last vision the woman had was of the inside of a basement. Abused and beaten before a pendant that her only daughter wore brought her demise. 

Hermione couldn't retrieve any thoughts from after that moment, only the dark appearance of horror in her mother's eyes seared against her cerebellum. She tried to recall how she'd arrived at the Tonks household. Who, if anyone, had helped her survive. Where her father - oh gods, her father! 

"My dad… my dad!" She demanded abruptly, frantically jerking back from Charlie. "Is he here? Is he alive?" 

His heavy arm brought her back into his side, and Hermione clutched the dirtied fabric Charlie's shirt. He spread a soft hand over her hair as she sobbed into his shoulder, attempting to soothe her with hushed placation. "Yes, 'Mi, you're father alive. He's with Pomfrey. He will be fine." 

But everything felt wrong. Charlie's frame. His delicate voice. The cheek he set against the crown of her head and the hand that shifted to hold her neck. The heat of his body, not nearly enough to warm her. 

But she let herself cry nonetheless. For how long she didn't know, her mind racing yet wholly blank as her tears seemed to wane, but her jagged inhales remained. As if she'd dehydrated herself by crying all the liquid within her body. Into a chest that didn't feel natural, held in arms that felt misplaced, listening to soothing tones hummed awkwardly. 

Hermione drew back then slowly, swallowing around the lump in her throat as he rose his head, gazing down at her with a profoundly solemn expression. Charlie's hand left her neck gently, swiping a finger across her cheek to clear away wetness. And she remarked the bandage about his hand then. He must have noticed her gaze, because he scowled slightly, pulling his hand away and tightening his opposite grip around her waist. 

"Malfoy is a real tosser." 

"Draco? He did that to you?" 

"He has a rather flamboyant fear response," Charlie sneered. 

"I'm sure he didn't mean to hurt you…" 

"He undoubtedly meant to hurt me. I was preventing him from running stupidly into the middle of wand fire. To you." 

Hermione's brow knitted, her heart rating building a touch. "Is… is he here? Narcissa?" 

"They are both here. Don't worry about them, 'Mi. Let me run you a bath." 

"I want to see my father," she replied, seeking to sound demanding, but it came out rather meek. 

"Pomfrey is still with him. I'll let her know you're awake." 

He squeezed her slightly tighter then, his lips falling to the crown of her head before he stood. He stepped to the opposite side of the modest room, opening a door and flicking his wand. And Hermione could hear the pitter-patter of water shimmy to life, saturating what she imagined was a simple tub. 

"There's just a shower," Charlie grimaced, walking back and offering her a hand. "Can you stand?" 

Hermione nodded gently, pushing back her coverlet and shifting her bare legs to the bed's side. The faint stain of red littered her knees, and it made her retch somewhat. Charlie's hands landed on her shoulders then, tightly squeezing as he sighed sincerely. Sorrow in his eyes ventured to penetrate Hermione's essence as he encircled an arm around her waist, pulling her upward and into the now steam-filled, stiflingly hot loo. 

"I'll be downstairs, 'Mi." 

Hermione only nodded, eyes staring blankly at the water beating against a chair her red-headed counterpart conjured. Charlie's hand fell away from her waist and shifted to her shoulder with another affectionate squeeze she knew meant to calm her. But it did nothing to reassure her racing subconscious as he slipped from the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. 

She disrobed from her borrowed nightdress, wondering who had changed her as she dropped it to the floor. The room's heat was scolding, bubbling sweat along her hairline as steam saturated the walls, the mirror, and the small window that let in the bright midday sun. She reached into the shower with a sigh and shifted the handle to the absolute coldest setting. 

And she noticed it then. The stain of red that lingered beneath her fingernails. It appeared as though someone had tried to cleanse it, but the faint indication her hands had been soaked in blood was evident. Whose blood she wasn't genuinely sure, but it made her retch regardless, hurriedly twisting to hunch over the toilet as the walls of her throat expelled her anguish. Again and again, until her stomach muscles were sore and her esophagus burned. 

Hermione crawled into the shower slowly, forcing the chair away and curling into herself, arms wrapping about her knees as she leaned against the cold tiles. Welcoming the chilled quality of the now freezing water and the wetness of the tile about her. Allowing the shower to purify surface level disgust as her internal repugnance only seemed to swell. 

Agony racked her frame, shuddering before the tears began anew. And she let herself audibly sob, pulling a waiting cloth from its hanger and using it to scrub her skin. Harshly. Her knees started to bleed as she washed them, the skin about her nails splitting and doing the same. Nearly the entire expanse of her body was red and raw by the time she dropped the cloth to the tile floor. 

Hermione sank back against the tiles once more, lulling her head toward the water. Letting it seep down her face, mingling with the tears she shed. Tears that she knew she could only emit today because tomorrow would bring her return to school and further delving into research on how to stop an evil madman. 

An evil madman that she now felt that she could kill and feel no remorse. 

A soft knock rapping on the bathroom door didn't startle Hermione, and a woman's voice rang out. "Ms. Granger?" 

But Hermione didn't answer, her head turning away from the bathroom door, pressing firmly against the tiles once more. 

"Ms. Granger, I'm coming in." 

A soft tutting noise followed the _Alohomora_ that allowed Madam Pomfrey's entrance. The showers rain sputtered off slowly, and Hermione welcomed the extra layer coldness that traveled her wet skin. Until a towel floated across her shoulders, enveloping itself about her fully. 

"Come on, dear," Madam Pomfrey whispered. "Out of the shower and dry off. I'll get you some clothes." 

The soft tingle of magic floated over her skin, and Hermione felt it tug her upward until she stood, stagnate, in the wet shower. She stirred slowly, drying herself as the medi-witch disappeared, inhaling slowly to clear her mind. To put some sort of wall around her hurt. 

"Your father is awake," Pomfrey expressed, returning to the bathroom with an assemblage of clothes Hermione imagined belonged to Nymphadora Tonks. 

"And is he… will he be okay?" 

"Yes, dear. Your father will have some scarring, but his wounds are only surface deep. Get dressed and meet me out here." 

Pomfrey closed the door then, leaving Hermione on her own anew. And she decided to forgo the mirror she knew would show herself pale, red-eyed, and marred. She slipped the long sleeve striped shirt over her head, bending to quickly towel dry her curls in the absence of her wand. The jeans were a touch big in the waist, but they clung just to her heels as she stepped from the bathroom. 

Madam Pomfrey was standing at the small desk in the corner, rummaging through her medical bag. "Can you tell me how you feel?" 

"Tired… I want to see my father." 

Pomfrey nodded lightly. "Of course, dear. I just need to access you now that you are awake. You've depleted yourself rather thoroughly." 

She continued to shuffle through her bag, withdrawing a vial of thick red liquid and handing it to Hermione. "You will feel rather weak as your magic recovers. Drink this for me, please?" The medi-witch swished her wand then, and a tingle of magic spread across Hermione as her vitals floated into the air. 

Hermione accepted the vial, staring at it with a grimace. "What is it?" 

"Mood leveling potion. Your vitals are stable, but your core is still vulnerable." 

With a grimace that knit her eyebrows, Hermione uncorked and tilted the bottle to her lips. The potion was thick but tasted of cinnamon and nutmeg. And Hermione could feel the viscous substance coating her insides as if it clung to her body's walls by which it sludge. Her mind began to clear a bit, the fog she'd been holding since she awoke withering slowly as her fingers started to tingle. And her spirit seemed to perk, just the slightest. 

"And one of these per day for the next week," Pomfrey demanded, flicking her wand and levitating six vials to Hermione's beside, and one into the weakened girl's hand. "To keep your strength so your body will replenish your core." 

"I would like to see my father now," Hermione snapped, downing the second potion with another grimace, and a flutter of pulses rippled through her abdomen. 

"Alright, dear, alright. He is across the hall." 

Pomfrey shifted from her room and stood beside a doorway across a pale yellow hallway from her own. Hermione's eyes scanned the short corridor as she stepped out, sights settling on pictures of a small Nymphadora sparkling against the wall. And Hermione found herself tearful at the images of Tonks with her father. And her mother… 

Pomfrey set a soft hand on her shoulder then, a gentle pressure hugging into Hermione before the medi-witch opened her father's door. Hermione could feel the tears threatening anew and attempted to blink them away as she stepped inside. But the image of her father laying relatively lifeless against a small bed begged otherwise. 

He looked utterly weak, the small area of his face not shielded in bandages just as white as the cloth that surrounded him. His eyes were closed, and it looked as though he was struggling to breathe. But he was inhaling, and the thought brought a unique mixture of relieved and dejected tears swelling over Hermione's lower lids. 

His eyes fluttered open slowly, landing on her with a pained smile. "Peaches." 

And tears dropped from Hermione's raw eyes quickly. She rushed forward, sinking onto his mattress and wrapping her arms about his bandaged neck. He coughed once with a groan, and Hermione startled, jerking back to ensure she hadn't hurt him. And he merely opened his arms for her to collapse onto again. 

"I'm so sorry, dad. I'm…" 

"Shh…" he whispered, gently encircling his arms about her form, stroking her damp curls. 

But Hermione couldn't quell her sobs. "It's my fault…" 

Her father began to tremble, and Hermione could feel the trickle of his tears dropping atop her head. And the tears falling from underneath his bandages made her heart shatter further. 

"I'm so sorry…" 

"I know..." he cooed quietly. "I know you are…" 

"Mum…" 

"Shh…" 

She didn't know how long she lay there with her father, crying until their weepings grew quiet. But she felt thoroughly exhausted by the time she leaned back, wiping her hands under her eyes to clear the wetness away. 

Her father's hand slid shakily against her eyebrow as his face fell further; the eyebrow held the torture scar she hated so desperately. "What happened to you, Peaches?" 

"You shouldn't be worried about me, dad." 

"I am always worried about you, Hermione." 

She nodded tersely once, inhaling deeply to fill her lungs with air that seemed to evade her. "It was nothing. Just an accident." 

"Are you sure? I can take care of them if you need me to?" he chuckled, nudging her gently with his hand. And she let a watery laugh slip past her lips, her tears not quelling with the quip. 

"It was handled," she offered. 

"I'm sure you put a hurting on whomever or whatever it was." 

Her father's eyes fell closed then, his arms falling over his chest as he inhaled a deep, jagged breath. Hermione whispered he should sleep as she set her hand atop his, at which he nodded slowly. And he was asleep a few moments later, even breaths blowing nasally sound throughout the room. 

And Hermione closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry. She couldn't continue to lament the situation further. Harry needed her to be strong, and she'd have to deal with her loss, anger, and sadness after Voldemort was gone. 

  


* * *

  


Draco sighed deeply, gazing into the fire before him as he drummed his fingers against his thigh. 

He awoke this morning to a wholly empty room and a fresh set of clothing on the bathroom sink. He showered quickly, casting a cleansing charm on his teeth in the absence of a brush. Donning his borrowed clothes waved another level of guilt into his ego, causing him to want to crawl back into bed. But his entirely empty stomach had drawn him downstairs toward the scent of fresh food. 

The kitchen was eerily quiet when he had wondered in, save for the scratching of metal against plates as his cousin and Lupin ate. His mother and aunt cooked together, whispering to one another as they floated plates of eggs and ham to the table behind them. 

Draco had sat calmly across from his cousin and Lupin, neither meeting his eye as he scraped his wooden chair against the floorboards. The splotchy redness of Nymphadora's cheeks were evident as he pulled food onto a waiting plate, though she tried to shield it. He had eaten quietly for a time before a ragged sob sounded across the table, a clank of a fork hitting china as his cousin rose quickly, running from the room. 

A disgruntled Lupin had snarled low before rising to follow her out, but not before setting a delicate hand on Andromeda's shoulder. The witch's eyes had a proper sheen as she watched Lupin leave, only a small, shuddered inhale exhibiting any genuine indication of her feelings. 

His mother and aunt had joined him for a time, chatting and attempting to engage in conversation. Asking him how his school work was progressing for the year and how his classmates were. As if he hadn't been tasked with killing Dumbledore. As if his mother hadn't laid beaten within a near inch of her life just days ago. As if Hermione's mother hadn't died the night prior. 

An odd sort of complacency lingered throughout the home, which grew stifling throughout the morning only disrupted by Nymphadora's tears. Draco tasted the thick seed of anxiety build in his body as he watched his aunt and mother converse, his fingers itching with emotion he couldn't truly define. The sun seemed to shine a condescending brightest against the snow-covered ground, while his thoughts held firmly on Hermione. And how he'd been unable to see her since the death of her mother just mere hours ago. 

Draco paced for what felt like hours in the bright yellow sitting room, seeking to soothe anger no one else seemed to hold. Until the elderly, somehow perpetually jovial Dumbledore had strolled through the front door, a somewhat confused looking Potter behind him. Severus met the two at the door, and without pausing to greet anyone, the pair followed Draco's godfather into the basement without a backward glance or a second word. 

That had been hours ago, and Draco had to admit that Potter looked quite worried as his shaggy black hair faded into the basement stairwell's darkness. Though, his rival's hesitation didn't halt the niggling of jealousy at not being kept informed. Of being left in the dark. 

The loud clanking of booted feet stomping down the stairs drew Draco's attention towards the foyer. Where the older Weasley emerged solo with a merely pained expression on his face. He paused at the bottom of the stairs, closing his eyes as his shoulders sagged somewhat dejectedly. 

"Where is Hermione?" Draco sought, a distaste evident in his tone. 

And the elder Weasley's eyebrow ticked up a touch, the only movement on his face as he turned his head toward Draco's voice. As his eyes opened, his face, too, fell into a deep leer. 

"She's upstairs. With her father." 

"She's okay?" 

"As okay as she can be," Weasley responded, and Draco merely nodded once. 

The red-head appeared as though he desired to say something, his bandaged hand flinching as his nostrils flared for a moment. But he merely shook his head, a somewhat disconcerted expression growing over his features, turning toward the front door. 

Draco stood quickly, taking a few steps toward the foyer. "I'm… I'm sorry about your hand." 

The red-head pivoted, his plain, blank expression eating away at Draco. "Not the brightest idea to undermine your ally." 

"I had to get to…" 

"I've dealt with beasts like you before," Weasley started, his statement taking Draco by surprise. "Don't sweat it. Next time, maybe, just don't burn someone trying to help you." 

Draco nodded tersely. "Right." 

"And if you hurt her in any way, you'll have a lot more to deal with than me," Weasley intoned before sneering anew, spinning and pacing from the room, leaving his words to linger in the air. 

And an odd swirl of excitement and confusion coursed through Draco at the man's words. At the fact that Hermione had told him even the slightest hint of the truth that made him defensive. Dejected. 

The faint sounds of further footsteps echoed in the room before the basement door opened wide, exposing Severus' typical grimace. Dumbledore followed with a softer expression than he had when he arrived. But the real indication that something unusual transpired below the house's floorboards was the blotched, red, wholly confused and astounded look that Potter wore as his feet met the foyer. 

Dumbledore's nose rose, eyes peering at Draco through his half-moon spectacles. "Ah, Mr. Malfoy." 

"Headmaster, hello. Professor," Draco replied coolly, bowing his head slightly as the two men returned the gesture. 

"Harry, I suggest you take Mr. Malfoy with you to see Ms. Granger," Dumbledore said soberly. 

Though he already appeared bewildered, Potter's brows knit further. "Sir? Are you certain…?" 

"I am." 

The finality of Dumbledore's tone made Potter's nose wrinkle slightly as his gaze shifted to land on Draco. Though, he didn't look entirely angry or put out, but rather, another layer of curiosity crossed over his features. "Come on then, Malfoy." 

Draco's heart leaped suddenly, a tingle of nerves growing over his form at the prospect of seeing Hermione. At being next to her again. Potter nodded softly to Dumbledore, who smiled in return as the boy wonder pushed into motion. And as Draco made to follow him, Severus set a firm hand on his shoulder with a brief but reassuring nod. 

Trailing Potter up the stairs continued with the day's eccentricity. He was wholly silent, eyes scanning the pictures about him just as Draco's had the night prior. He sighed deeply only once, just as the two reached the summit, moving swiftly to a door Draco had walked passed on his descent to the kitchen this morning. 

Potter reached for the handle but paused, his fingers scarcely touching the metal. "Hey, mate…" 

"We're not mates," Draco sneered. 

"No, I suppose we're not." 

Potter dropped his hand and turned, a pensive look on his face as his eyes remained fixed on the floor. He shook his head and then strangely nodded, raising his concerned eyes to meet Draco's steely gaze. 

"I want to apologize for what I did to you." 

Draco scoffed with a measure of indignation for which his mother would backhand him. "For nearly killing me, you mean?" 

Potter flinched, nodding once. "Yeah, I'm sorry." 

"Forgive me for not believing you. You seemed quite intent on murdering me." 

"I was. I mean… I wanted to hurt you," Potter replied, fidgeting his hands together. 

Draco jeered, raising an eyebrow. "And you did. Thoroughly." 

"I hated you. I still might. For everything you did. For hurting Katie. For nearly killing Ron." 

"Please, Potter, continue to regale me with all of my failures." 

"For using Hermione." 

Draco's lips curled upward, a fire burning within him as he took a threatening step into the black-haired man before him. Looming over his childhood nemesis even though they were nearly the same height. 

"I would never use her," he growled, and Potter jerked back, eyelids wide. 

Harry sputtered for a moment before his face hardened. "Alright, okay. I'm sorry, alright?" 

"Whatever, Potter. Count us as even for me breaking your nose." 

"I'm not sure that's…" 

"We're even, Potter. Just open the door." 

Potter merely nodded, turning back to the door and opening it slowly. And Draco's sights fell onto Hermione lying next to her father, whose head rested wrapped in bandages with an expression that read pain. Hermione's hands clutched his somewhat massive arm, making it apparent she was hanging on to his survival as if the fabric of her psyche depended upon it. Although, the pronounced rising and falling of his chest meant he was alive, and Draco felt himself sigh thankfully. 

The door creaked quietly, and her eyes snapped open quickly. Locking to the door as one hand reached for a wand that wasn't on the bedside table. 

"'Mione, it's me," Potter whispered. 

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust fully, but as they scanned the solemn face Potter offered her, she looked utterly relieved. 

"Harry!" Hermione whispered appreciatively, standing from her slumbering father's bed and nearly vaulting into Potter's arms. 

He opened his grasp to her without hesitation, enclosing her in a crushing hug as her head sank into the crook of his neck, Potter's hand raising to the back of her head. "'Mione, I'm so sorry." 

Draco could hear her sobs, soft and jagged, and stabbing at his heart. Jealousy of the two Gryffindors' closeness licked across his skin, but he tried to silence it. To hide his disgust. A desperate longing to hold her itching at his fingers. 

The stood embraced for a moment before she pulled back. Eyes glancing over to Draco with a small smile gracing her lips as she wiped a hand across her red, slightly swollen face. 

Potter's hands shifted to her shoulders, clutching tightly. "We need to talk, 'Mione." 

"Okay," she murmured, nodding her head. "Let's go to my room." 

Hermione glanced over her shoulder for a moment, inhaling deeply as a longing graced her features. She nodded slowly, stepping away from Harry and walking passed both men, her eyes on the ground. And Draco wanted to reach out and pull her in, but only let his fingers twitch before following her from the room. Across the hall into a tiny, light blue bedroom, where she perched onto a small mattress. 

Draco paced further in, sitting in a chair waiting on the edge of the room, Potter settling into the bed beside her. He withdrew a worn copy of the Daily Prophet from his back pocket, evidently hidden underneath his shirt. Draco noticed the picture on the front, a roaring fire blazing through a crop of trees. 

"Malfoy Manor burned completely down last night," he offered, handing the paper to Hermione. 

Her shocked gaze studied the leading article before training to Draco's, rivaling the bewilderment he felt internally. He knew the ballroom's walls crumbled in flames by the time Severus apparated them out, but hearing his ancestral home was a pile of ashes was unexpected. But he didn't feel the anger he anticipated. Instead, he felt a hint of satisfaction. 

"Aurors searched the area this morning, trying to douse the forest fire. And apparently Oblivated quite a few Muggles. They found traces of Moody in the ashes," Potter stated, his face falling. "And of Fenrir Greyback and Antonin Dolohov…" 

Hermione didn't let him finish before her mouth fell open in a loud gasp. Eyes widening drastically as tears sprang from them. The paper slipping from her grasp as her uncontrollably shaking hands shifted to her mouth. 

"Oh, my gods… I…" 

Potter's expression grew wholly anxious as he shifted toward her on the bed. "What, 'Mione? What's wrong?" 

"I… I killed them?" Hermione muttered. 

And even though Draco knew it was true, he couldn't let her believe it if she couldn't recall what happened. Couldn't let that stain of evil befall her soul because she had likely done it in righteousness and to preserve her and her father's lives. Even if she had erupted in a fit of revenge that suffered the breath from her mother's murder. 

Draco rose and strode across the room swiftly, sinking to his knees before her, pulling her hands between his as she shook. Thick, non-frozen tears falling from her eyes as she gasped deeply. 

And for the first time in days, he felt tension fall away from his figure, their meager touches in the Manor drowned out by their racing hearts. But a deep, impure sadness remained on his chest at her gaze. She seemed apprehensive at first, but her shoulders sagged somewhat as her tear-stained face met his. 

"No, Granger. No, I did. It was me," he stated plainly. 

"I… I can't remember…" 

With a pronounced shake of his head, he clutched her hands tighter within his. "It wasn't you. They were alive after I sent you all here. I saw it. They burned in my fire." 

"I…" she stammered, inhaling off-beat. 

"It wasn't you." 

Her face crumpled further, her hands slipping from his to lock around his neck, clinging to him as he slid his hands around her back. He breathed a selfish sigh of relief as she pulled him in, burying her face into the crook of his neck. 

She sobbed against his skin, and it took a moment for him to realize it felt odd because her tears were not frozen. "I'm so sorry, Draco. I did this to you." 

"No, you didn't." 

"I was supposed to protect you, and… and I caused you so much pain." 

Draco pulled back some, pushing against her shoulders to meet her eyes. "No, Granger. Stop. None of this was your fault. You did nothing wrong." 

"I've been so selfish. I ignored you for days." 

Draco set a soft hand on her cheek then, swiping at the tears that befell it. "You had every right. I should be the one apologizing. I…" 

"It wasn't your fault…" she whispered, leaning into his hand after setting one of hers against it. 

Wiping another slow dropping tear away with his thumb, he hummed a touch. "They aren't iced?" 

"No," she offered quietly. "They have been liquid all day. I'm tired. Pomfrey said I exhausted my core somehow..." 

A somewhat uncomfortable clearing of a throat sounded beside them, and Draco turned his eyes toward Potter. Who sat with his hands in his lap, an odd, awkward half-smile, half-grimace over his features. Hermione tapped Draco's fingers lightly, drawing his gaze back, and she held a near pleading look in her eyes. And he knew immediately she desired to inform her best mate of their connection. 

With a stiff nod, Draco rose, removing his hands from Hermione and stepping back. She inhaled a few times, Potter's gaze shifting between them before settling on Hermione. 

"Harry, I have to tell you something," she said, eyes still glued to Draco. 

"'Mione, I know about the ritual." 

Both he and Hermione's stunned visions locked to the black-haired boy wonder with confusion. "What? How? How did you know? When did you…? We've been careful!" 

"Snape showed it to me. Well, not yours, but his. With your mum, Malfoy. And I saw some hints of your connection." 

"He showed you?" Draco demanded, still wholly puzzled. 

"Many things…" Potter started, eyes shifting to Draco's. "One thing being the night of my parents' murder. He was with your mum that night. Doing the ritual. It's why he wasn't able to warn anyone about Voldemort's plan." 

Draco growled somewhat, his hands curling into fists as he felt a quick rage boil within him. "You're not blaming your parents' deaths on my godfather, are you, Potter?" 

"Of course not. That was Voldemort's doing all his own. But he's been riddled with guilt since that night." Potter shifted back toward Hermione then, hand reaching out for hers. "He's been protecting me… everything we blamed him for 'Mione, he was truly helping. Quirrell. How hard he's been on me in classes and for leaving the grounds. When I thought he didn't tell anyone about Sirius earlier this year…" 

Potter was quiet then, his hands trembling within Hermione's. Tears in his eyes as Hermione leaned her head onto his shoulder. 

"You could have told me, 'Mione..." 

"How could I have, Harry? You were obsessed with thinking Draco was a Death Eater." 

"And I was right," Harry answered ardently. 

"And how would you have reacted had I told you he was my soulmate? That he and I are bound?" 

Potter's face rose in a shock and brought a slight glee to Draco. "What? You're soulmates? Those exist?" 

"Yes, we believe we are connected in body and soul." 

Potter's shock lingered for a moment before his face softened. "I would have supported you." 

Draco scoffed then, rolling his eyes. "Because you were so supportive when you saw us kissing." 

"That's different," Potter huffed indignantly. 

Yet another scoff passed Draco's lips. "You're saying you wouldn't have tried to kill me then?" 

"I apologized!" the second man nearly shouted. 

"Doesn't mean you didn't nearly kill me!" 

"Hey!" Hermione screamed over their voices, and both men flinched. "Can we not argue right now? Please? Merlin, I can't handle it." 

"Sorry, 'Mione." 

"Yeah, sorry, Granger," Draco offered, finally sinking back into the vacant chair. 

"What else did Snape tell you, Harry?" Potter's gaze shifted back to Draco before snapping back to Hermione, who urged him to continue with a nod. "I'll tell him, regardless. What else did they tell you?" 

Potter inhaled deeply, shoulders going a touch rigid. "Voldemort made Horcruxes. It's how he was able to regain form that night in the graveyard. How he survived the rebounded killing curse. That is what Dumbledore and I have been researching this year." 

"Horcruxes?" Hermione sought. 

"I've heard of the concept. It's very dark magic," Draco chimed in, and Potter nodded in agreement. 

"Bits of his soul placed in objects after he… after he killed people." 

Hermione's face fell rather pensive, her eyes darting back and forth, staring at nothing, and Draco could nearly hear her mind working. "Multiple?" 

"At least two, which are destroyed." 

"The journal," she declared clearly. 

Potter nodded, and a profoundly pensive, pained expression spread across his features. "And a Gaunt family ring. Dumbledore destroyed that earlier this year…" 

Hermione's hand fell on top of Potter's then, an unspoken connection to the boy wonder visible as she read his expression without fault. "What aren't you saying, Harry?" 

"He's dying," Potter murmured, and Hermione's hand gripped his forearm. 

"The Dark Lord?" Draco sought, but Hermione shook her head, curls bouncing wildly as she did. 

"Dumbledore," she said quietly. "His hand…" 

"It was cursed… the ring cursed him. Snape is making him potions and has kept it localized to his arm, but…" 

"He'll die. That's why he didn't stop me," Draco finally spoke. 

"Stop you?" 

"That's not important right now," Hermione stated. 

"That sounded rather important, Hermione," Harry condemned, eyes locking yet again to Draco with a vicious sneer. 

"We can talk about it later, Harry. What else did they tell you?" 

His gaze lingered for a moment, and the vehemence written in the lines of his face did not surprise Draco in the slightest. It was the same disdain he felt in himself when the Dark Lord was around. The same hate he showed even himself when looking in the mirror. 

"We don't know how many he has. But Dumbledore thinks Slughorn might. He's shared a memory with the Order, but it was an altered version." 

"And you're to get the real one. That's why Dumbledore told you to get close to him." 

"Yes. But Slughorn is rather put out with me right now." 

"He was practically kissing your feet at the start of term, Potter. What did you do?" Draco sought with a hint of sarcasm lacing his tone. 

"I asked him about it." 

Draco jeered, rolling his eyes at Potter's ignorance. "You plainly asked a wizard how he helped enable the rise of a Dark Lord? I'm sure that went well." 

"Just as well as your little mead incident, which didn't help my case." 

Draco made to respond, cocking his top lip slightly, but Hermione held up her hand to him. "How can we get the memory? What have you done so far?" 

"We? No, 'Mione. I can't ask you to help after…" 

"Potter, you should know better than anyone that she's going to help you regardless." 

Potter sighed intensely, nodding his head in acquiescence. "I've tried just asking him. I've tried seeking him out to help Ron. I just haven't had much luck without your help, 'Mione." 

"We'll figure it out." 

"Frankly, Potter, you have all the luck you need, and Slughorn gave it to you himself. So long as you haven't wasted that potion on trying to get in Chang's knickers." 

"The Felicis!" Hermione shouted. "Draco, that's brilliant." 

"Well, I am brilliant, you know." 

"Oh, hush. Harry, do you still have the potion?" Potter nodded quickly in response. "Then we just need the best time for you to drink it. We should try to get the memory before students return for the next term. It will be harder to pin Slughorn down with students around." 

"The New Years' dinner?" Draco offered. "Slughorn seems to like his booze." 

"If he gets drunk, it may be easier to get the memory," Potter proposed in agreeance with Draco's observation. 

"We'll need to plan when we get back to Hogwarts," Hermione stated. "Are you going back tonight, Harry?" 

"No, Dumbledore said I that can stay here with you." 

Hermione looked utterly relieved, a grateful smile forming her features as she nodded. And a deep yawn slipped past her lips, her eyes watering thoroughly as they blinked rapidly. 

"We should let you rest, 'Mione. I'm sorry I put all of this on you today." 

"Harry, it is okay. We've got... we've got a mission that we cannot stop. Regardless of what has transpired." 

Potter stood then, pulling Hermione with him, closing his arms about her. And when she stepped back, moving toward Draco and sliding her arms around his middle, he felt utter contentment. Winding his arms about her and kissing the top of her head. And when she bid him goodnight but asked Potter to stay, Draco only held the slightest hint of jealousy as he closed the door and walked downstairs to the kitchen, sitting with his mother as she and her sister cooked a late supper. 


	14. A Funeral fit for Three Sheets to the Wind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovies! I hope you enjoy this chapter. I would like to thank [ whith96 ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whith96/pseuds/Whith96)for her lovely work as an Alpha for this story! Thank you for your feedback on this chapter.
> 
> I know I'm late, but I hope you enjoy this chapter!

"We stand here together, under the weight of sorrow, to mourn three individuals taken from us too soon."

Hermione winced as Kingsley Shaklebolt's eulogy echoed from the Northern point of the Tonks family garden, the hand laced with her father's tightening as tears of grief welled along her lower lid. The moisture in her eyes clouded the three makeshift polished rock tombstones before her. One for each lost family and friend in the liberation from Malfoy Manor. Edward Tonks. Alastor Moody. And her mother, Helen Jean Granger. 

"We stand in the eye of the Sun and upon this hallowed Earth, so to witness the sacred passing for the deceased. Together we come to honor them, who in body have left our company, but in soul and memory shall never fade."

A gentle breeze floated through their spot West of the grave plots, and Hermione welcomed the feel. A calming sensation where others shivered slightly. A solace to her soul as the chill seeped through her skin.

Harry stepped a bit closer into her, placing a soft hand on the middle of her back, rubbing gently. His face held solicitude when their sights met, his words of the previous night thumping repetitively on her subconscious: _"They'll tell you it gets easier, but it never does."_ The succor of their empathetic, long shared embrace still echoed across her skin. His soothing reassurances that he'd be there for her no matter what continually attempted to soothe her weary soul.

"Let us all breathe deeply, inhaling remembrance."

Tonks' jagged exhale from the North drew Hermione's knowing gaze. The young Auror stood in front of Remus, his hands resting on her shoulders as a pensive, fierce look spanned his features. Andromeda shifted closer and encircled her arms about her daughter's neck, drawing the morose witch's head into her neck's crook. And Tonks' desperate clutch of the back of her mother's black dress made Hermione's spirit ache with longing. 

She had to will herself not to audibly wail as she tore her gaze away, letting her gaze wander to the South where Draco stood. His mother's arm rested laced through his, a forlorn downturn of her lips framing her jaw as Snape stood beside her, their fingers laced. Hermione's sights met the pale blonde-haired man's for a brief moment, and the comfort and sorrow and sliver of optimism she saw there drew a poignant, wistful hopefulness across her lips.

"Let us spend some time in silence to remember our loved ones, to call them up in our minds, and to speak in the private places of our heart. Saying those things that we always wanted to say but now have no chance."

Both Andromeda and Tonks stepped forward then, stopping in front of Ted's headstone with their eyes cast downward. Remus trailed them but moved to the monument that read Alastor Moody, taking a knee in the snow with his head hung low. Kingsley met him, standing somewhat regally as he set a firm hand on the werewolf's shoulder.

Inhaling whatever confidence she could, Hermione tugged her father's hand, suggesting a move with a short inclination of her head. He nodded tersely, his lowered lids striving to conceal the tears in his eyes as they moved forward to her mother's gravestone.

A gravestone in a location that made her stomach curl with wrongness, her mother's desire to be buried next to her family unfulfilled. But the marbled grey stone engraved with her name, birth and death dates, and a single inscription of _A loving mother, wife, and friend_ was better than nothing in a time where the certainty of safe burial was nil.

A bouquet materialized beside her, Harry's reassuring nod urging her to seize them. With a whispered "thank you," she shakily accepted, orbs turning back to study the polished stone. Mind hunting for words to say. But what could she say? This funeral was her fault, and nothing would change that.

A jagged sob whispered from her lips as she bent in front of her mother's name. Her hand shook, petals falling to the snow before she placed the bouquet down. 

_"I'm so sorry, mum…"_ Hermione echoed in the walls of her subconscious, noiselessly sniffing as tears tumbled from her eyes. " _I miss you. Please… Please forgive me."_

The soft shuffle of snow crunching about her did not break her clouded, vacant gaze from the last memory of her mother. Hermione lingered crouched before the tombstone for a time, her father's hand fell to her shoulder long minutes later, his deep, solemn voice uttering, "We should go inside, kiddo."

Hermione consented tersely, gradually rising without removing her sights from the gray stone, now lightly covered in fluffy white snowfall. She couldn't find the words to utter acceptance, merely let her father guide her toward the door.

"I'm going to go lay down for a bit, Peaches," her father said with a watery tone as they passed into the sitting room.

"Of course, dad… I'll walk you up."

Her father rocked his head, kissing her forehead and pulling her into a hug, whispering, "No… no. I just… I need a moment alone."

"Sure, dad… I love you."

Her father's arms crushed about her tighter before he pulled back, moving his hands to her cheeks. "I love you, Hermione Jean, and don't you ever forget that."

She nodded, tears still welling as Peter, her father, pulled away. Hermione watched him shuffle off, a defeated sag evident in his shoulders as he headed for the foyer. To ascend a set of stairs in an unfamiliar home where he'd be living for the foreseeable future. Alongside two women of which he held minimal knowledge, in full view of the grave in which his wife laid.

A familiar, loving arm encircled her shoulder, Harry drawing her into his side and kissing her head's crown, whispering, "You okay, 'Mione?"

"No…" she exhaled as he laid his head against hers.

Booted footsteps reverberated through the stairwell long moments later ere Remus and Tonks emerged, shuffling into the sitting room. Their thick coats and gloves made it evident that the two were planning to leave. Hermione promptly realized the night then, and what the bitter, intense sneer on Remus' face expressed. Tonks' gaze met hers briefly as she turned, whispering something to Remus, who merely nodded tersely, placing his lips cautiously on the witch's forehead. 

Tonks' languid shuffle brought her into Hermione's space. "'Mione."

Harry squeezed Hermione's shoulder, somewhat inelegantly dipping his head and stepping away to converse inaudibly with Lupin. "Tonks', I'm…"

The Auror nodded understandingly, placing a gloved hand in Hermione's shoulder. "I know. And I'm sorry, too. But… but we cannot continue to blame ourselves - it will change nothing."

"You've nothing for which to blame yourself, Tonks."

"I do. I…" but Hermione could practically see the words catch in her throat, her brows knitting somewhat. "I didn't offer to take his place. He wasn't a trained Auror. He shouldn't have been there. He shouldn't have been fighting."

For as tough and headstrong as the Metamorphmagus was, no heart can withstand the loss of someone so dear. And Hermione felt it deep within her, as well. A longing that would never again go fulfilled. A sorrow that would perpetually linger in her eyes just as the bead persisted within Tonks' red-rimmed irises.

"Dora," Lupin growled, though Hermione knew it was at neither woman but the slow-coming nightfall.

"I must go," Tonks uttered softly. "We can't stay much later, or the wolf may make an appearance before he wishes. I just wanted to say if you… if you need someone to talk to, I'm an owl away…"

"As am I."

Tonks nodded stiffly, her arms suddenly enveloping Hermione in a crushing hug. A hug that appeared just as pleading, just as needing, as the thoughts that pressed on Hermione's mind. They lingered in one another's arms, palpable sadness passing back and forth between the two before the Auror pulled away.

"Your mum?" Hermione sought.

"She's in the kitchen. She cooks when she can't sit still."

"Thank you. And tell Remus thank you for me, too."

Tonks rocked her head in understanding, stepping back to the werewolf and exiting through the back door. Harry's arm opened for Hermione to nestle back into as Remus and Nymphadora disapparated with a muffled pop. He hugged her close, and she blinked back tears, thanking Harry for his support and walking, alone, to the swinging kitchen door.

An awkwardness crept into her gut as she pushed the door inward, slowly stepping through the threshold. It swung shut with a resounding thud, and she lingered in the doorway, perceptions glued to the older witch as she turned from her spot at the sink. 

"Hello, Mrs. Tonks."

"Andromeda, dear. Or Dromeda. Meda even, if you please."

"Andromeda…" Hermione acknowledged, stepping further into the kitchen as the stunningly regal woman set her dishtowel on the counter. "I… I wanted to say that I am so sorry for your loss."

Andromeda offered a palm to the table, a knowing, rueful smile on her lips. Hermione agreed appreciatively, sinking into a worn wooden chair as the elderly witch flicked her wand. A soft grey tea set decorated with delicate black filagree floated from the top of a cabinet as a black kettle filled itself with water, dropping with a clank on top of the flame firing the stove.

Andromeda perched beside her, angling her body toward Hermione. The warmth of her palms swirled an odd fusion of grief and relief in Hermione's mind. The woman's delicate, penetrating gaze was so distant from the manic snarls of a sister who looked her similar. Who regularly featured in Hermione's nightmares.

"Losing my husband is not easy. I cannot tell you the sadness it brings me, but I imagine you know. Watching my daughter fall to pieces has shattered my heart more than anything I've experienced. But dear, losing a mother is something I will never forget. I am so sorry for your loss."

Andromeda set a soft hand on Hermione's cheeks - the deft, knowing touch of a mother. And Hermione couldn't help the nearly soundless sob that slipped from her throat. Andromeda cooed softly, quickly enveloping her arms about Hermione's neck just as she had her daughter during the funeral. And Hermione let herself sink into the warmth of her embrace.

They stayed enfolded within each other's arms, the hum of the tea kettle slowly drowning out the sobs Hermione shed into the woman's shoulder. Though she wept no tears, Hermione could see the pain on Andromeda's face when she pulled back. Could see the sadness as the older woman brushed a curl away from her face.

The ripple of the kitchen door drew both of their gazes, settling onto Narcissa Malfoy standing in the doorway. "May I join you?"

Although she appeared exhausted, one couldn't deny the regalness of the Black bloodline. Shallow scars marred her face, the most pronounced one over her lip surfacing the night of their first meeting into the forefront of Hermione's mind. But the woman wore them with what nearly looked like pride. There were hints of pain in her pupils' abysses, but the faint smile on her lips as the kettle whined was heartening.

"Of course not, Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione agreed, indicating the seat Andromeda vacated to attend the tea.

"Narcissa, dear. Please."

"Of course…"

"We haven't truly met, have you? The other night… I do not count it." Hermione merely rocked her head in agreement, at which Narcissa loft her hand between them. "It is lovely to meet you finally, Ms. Granger." 

Taken aback at the informality, Hermione merely blinked, sliding her hand against Narcissa's with a soft shake. "The pleasure is mine, Narcissa. And please, call me Hermione."

"I suppose at least one of us should, and if my son insists on using your surname."

The soft scrap of Andromeda's chair only seemed to make the tension Hermione tasted worse. Made the nerves flutter in her gut as she watched both women make their tea - two sugars and a dash of milk, just like Draco. Formed a lump in her throat and intense water over her lower lids.

"I hope you do not mind that I have shared your… connection with my son with my sister," Narcissa's voice rang through the sounds of teaspoons against china.

A touch stunned, Hermione's sights flicked between the two sisters, perceiving no ill will on their features. "No… of course not."

"We both think it is wonderful, don't we, 'Cissa?" Andromeda offered, pulling her teacup to her lips.

"Yes," the younger woman stated matter-of-factly, the smile on her features only validating her words.

And while the sentiment of their approval should have surprised her, delighted her, Hermione couldn't help but feel her blame intensify. Both of these women, two souls she'd scarcely met before a week ago, lost and suffered so much under the weight of her actions. And here they remained, willing to accept her as a bonded mate to their bloodline without malice.

Hermione's speech quivered lightly, her gaze unable to shift from her steaming teacup. "Narcissa, I must... I must apologize for my actions that led to your torture."

"You have nothing for which to apologize," Narcissa responded without hesitation.

"If I hadn't allowed Draco to help me cast the ritual, none of this would have happened," Hermione whispered.

Narcissa's soft palm fell to her hand, belatedly drawing Hermione's eyes from her teacup. "I am proud of what he has done; of what Draco is doing with his own life. A child surpassing you is singularly the greatest thing for which a parent can ask. And if I must bear scars for my son's salvation, then so be it."

Hermione couldn't speak through the lump in her throat, offering only a nod and a few blinked tears at both women. A weight lifted slowly from her shoulders as the two witches began to speak of little things -burden gradually dissipating as their kindness enveloped her.

They talked for nearly an hour, chatting about their relationship in their youth, the mischief they managed to entangle themselves. About how Andromeda met Ted, which did finally bring tears to the woman's eyes. They questioned Hermione of her schoolwork and if she remembered her first bit of accidental magic. Allowing giggles to tumble from their lips as older witches recounted anecdotes of their children incinerating flowers and changing their hair color in their crib.

The door flapping shut didn't stop Narcissa's tale of Draco's first broom, and how he ended up riding it naked through the Manor until he fell off and scraped his bum. But the deep groan that preceded the thump of footsteps did.

"Must you, Mother?" Draco scowled.

"It is my gods given right to share these stories with your girlfriend, Draco."

Hermione flushed at the term, orbs bolting to Draco's with a bit of concern and a touch of intrigue. In all the time that they'd been together, neither spoke the term. She tried to tell the heat on her cheeks that it was absurd - they were bonded and had bed one another numerous times. But Draco's mother calling Hermione his girlfriend made her heart thud erratically.

He merely ticked the corner of his lips into a minute smile, gazing down at her. "Granger, it is nearly time to travel back to school. Godfather is waiting."

"Of course," Hermione started, rising from her seat, both of her companions following. "Narcissa, Andromeda I… well... thank you… for everything."

Andromeda merely nodded, a small, sorrowful smile forming her lips as Narcissa enclosed her arms about Hermione's frame. She let herself enjoy the warmth, the odd sort of love she could feel, before pulling back. 

"I'll be down in a moment. I want to make sure dad has… well, to say bye," she offered to Draco.

"Sure, Granger. I'll be waiting."

Hermione nodded once as she wiped her cheeks of residual moisture, setting course for the stairs. The three Black's stood watching her as the kitchen door swung shut, one yearning face and two sorrowful searing against her mind.

Her father was fast asleep as she peered into his room, though his brow furrowed as if he hated the dream within which he lingered. She penned a quick note, packed the few things she'd arrived with, and walked carefully to his bedside. She wanted to wake him to make sure he was fine, but instead, she set the note down and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before heading back downstairs.

Draco, Harry, and Snape idled silently in the sitting room, trailing her into the gardens after she slipped on a loaned pair of gloves. Both Draco and Harry's hands shifted into hers, and Hermione nodded, chancing one last glance at the home that now housed her only living relative. That now protected both her father and the mother of her soulmate from harm. That hopefully wouldn't be the target of further tragedy in their lives.

Her navel pulled back quickly, stomach lurching violently as her world melted. And when her feet met the ground, she tried not to retch. She still felt weak, her magic not yet recouped, and her memory still berating her at every turn.

Harry's hand fell away as Snape pushed forward, long black robes swiping atop thick, deep snow. He lingered for a moment, eyes locked to Hermione before she nodded. Apprehension was apparent on his features as he turned, following Snape's footsteps toward the castle.

Draco squeezed her hand, seeking her gaze before softly asking, "Are you okay?"

She merely nodded, taking a step forward, expecting he would drop her hand. But he held firmly, falling into step with her the entire trek between Hogsmeade and Hogwarts. Neither speaking a word.

And by the time Hermione and Draco entered the castle, Snape was already ascending the main staircase. Harry stood a bit awkwardly in the entryway corridor, lingering and watching as she and Draco paused near the stairwell into the dungeons.

It felt a bit awkward, just being the two of them again. So much had changed, had transpired, throughout the last month that their night in the clearing seemed years gone.

"Would you… Do you want to go to the room?"

He sighed quietly, his free hand moving to push a curl from her face. "I should probably make an appearance in the dungeons before Blaise loses his mind."

"Right. Yes, of course. I'm sure he's worried about you."

Draco arms drove low about her waist then, drawing her into his chest as his chin fell to her head's crown. Relief washed over her as their skin connected, a feeling replaced only by the sparsest tingle of happiness as the softness of his lips pressed against her forehead. He nodded over her shoulder as he pulled back, kissing her forehead once more before spinning and descending into the Slytherin common room without another word. 

Harry's face was a mixture of intrigue, confusion, and slight revulsion as she turned, a smile playing at her lips for the first time in days. "Oh, shut it, Potter…"

Harry's arm slid around her shoulder as he chuckled, tugging her close into his side. Their walk to the seventh floor was silent - the only sounds the castle's faint creaking and their footsteps echoing against the walls of her brain.

* * *

The lengthy days that crawled between their return to the castle and New Year's Eve were anything but a relief for Draco.

Blaise was fairly put out the night of their return, sitting stiffly upon one of the dungeon's velvet sofas with a deep sneer as he read. He'd scolded Draco rather thoroughly when the blonde informed him of the nightmarish event that transpired at his Manor. Derided him for not writing sooner of his mother's health and the tragedy that had befallen Hermione.

They spent a great deal of time that night talking, drinking a bottle of Ogden's, and merely sitting in comfortable silence with one another staring into the raging fireplace. They conversed over the Manor's destruction and the implications therein - what it meant for the Death Eaters and where they would hide now. And Draco fell asleep that night rather drunk and a touch emotional.

The next morning, an owl pecked at his window, dropping a note into his palm as he allotted its entrance. A letter that only held one line: _Meet in the Room—10 a.m._

He'd been rather shocked to see only Potter sitting upon him and Hermione's sofa as he stepped through the shabby wooden door. Familiar cowardice and self-preservation pulsed within him, prompting him to shift a hand about his wand slowly.

But whatever hostility Draco anticipated when he and Potter first discovered themselves alone never manifested. Potter merely inclined his head in greeting, lips stretching into a thin line showing only piddling discontent. It was apparent he felt just as unusual as Draco. As if some fragmentary form of truce had settled in their association. Neither would speak it, neither would admit it aloud, but they shared something now.

They shared a best friend. A love, even if one was familial and the other true. It seemed they both understood where their animosity stood as Draco paced further in, perching a bit awkwardly on the sofa beside his once enemy. They didn't speak, didn't glance at one another, merely sat, waiting in almost contented silence.

Hermione joined the two long moments later, carrying a map Draco remembered from the night of her torture and Potter's Invisibility Cloak, among countless other things. Her eyes were wide, a darker stain than usual below them. Her hair looked like a coiled mess on the top of her head, and she yawned more than she spoke. 

Texts and tomes crowded the table as she emptied what appeared to be a never-ending bag - one bound with chains and another that held a soft red glow. It was evident she'd sleuthed through the Restricted Section overnight, and Draco found himself fretting over if she'd slept at all.

She had rambled, fingers rushing through her hair as she informed them of stashing as many books as she could without being obvious. She sat before them, drawing a book to her face with a sneer of determination. Draco and Potter merely shared a concerned glance before joining her, flipping through texts searching for what Draco could only assume was information on Horcruxes.

Hermione's snore had startled them only an hour later, both sighing a bit concerned as they studied her: face smashed against a book, mouth slightly agape, her fingers still toying with the frayed corners of a page. Draco could only rock his head as he lifted her limp form, depositing her on the couch for much-needed rest.

After, he and Potter studied texts for some time, silence lingering as Hermione slept. Until a somewhat random question about Puddlemere United blundered from his unlikely counterpart's lips. And while it felt strange to have a candid conversation about Quidditch with the boy who'd nearly murdered him weeks prior, it also felt… strangely relieving.

Hermione rejoined them before sunset, her face still a bit red from sleep. But her cognizance grew more evident the more she blinked, finally delving into explanations that she'd scoured every stack the library possessed overnight. Searching for tomes that would give clues on Horcruxes. To find anything that may shed light on their construction and how one went about their destruction.

She dove back into her books with vigor, refusing dinner as she furiously scribbled notes. Potter's presence brought with it another benefit as he called for a small creature Draco thought long dead. Dobby, his father's house-elf, popped in with trays of pies and water, nearly spilling them at the sight of his former master's son.

And that's how the three stayed for the next three days, huddled together around borrowed books. Scheming. Planning. Plotting. Researching. Dobby coming like clockwork to deliver sustenance.

It appeared Slughorn was a creature of habit. But the patterns were few, emerging only as sitting on his chamber's couch for hours at a time. Whether sleeping or staring off blindly into space, the trio wasn't sure. But it didn't help breed approaches to retrieve his memory.

And when each garbled idea crumbled under the slightest bit of pressure, it seemed more likely that Draco's original vision of liquoring Slughorn up on New Year's Eve was the only viable option.

The 30th came quickly and with it the assurance that Dumbledore and Severus backed their proposal. Despite its undeniably shotty nature, reliant on an unending set of variables, even Dumbledore acknowledged Slughorn's tongue was a bit looser after a few goblets of mead.

So, here Draco stood, a somewhat suffocating formal sweater warming his figure as he glanced at himself in the mirror. Blaise exited the bathroom door as Draco adjusted his hair in a full-length floor mirror. A waft of humid air crept into the chamber behind his best mate, who had a furrowed brow and a towel wrapped around his waist.

"The plan is to truly just… get him drunk?"

"Yes, Blaise," Draco sighed, turning away as Blaise dressed. "The plan is to get the man drunk and hope the Felicis helps Potter get the memory."

"And we have to sit with Potter. Who nearly killed you weeks ago? Who -"

"We've called -"

Blaise scoffed carelessly, drawing a sweater over his head. "A truce, yes. All well and good but -"

"Just leave it, Blaise. We have to get this memory no matter what," Draco sighed with a grimace as he thrust open the dorm room door, setting a path toward dinner.

The four long students' tables were absent as he and Blaise made their way into the Great Hall. The shorter professors' table sat at the room's center decorated with fairy lights and abundant food. An occasional faint pop of green or blue or purple echoed from the ceiling above, charmed to show a starry night sky filled with fireworks.

A few younger students grinned carelessly to one another at the table's closest end, stuffing their faces with pies. A handful of professors filled the far side, Hermione and Potter already nestled beside McGonagall and Slughorn, listening to the older man utter tales. Blaise led the charge, sinking onto Potter's side of the table as instructed as Draco perched stiffly on Hermione's.

Her tired eyes met his, and he felt a bit sick. She looked like she hadn't slept outside of the few hours he'd forced her over the past days. Her skin looked flushed, puffy, her lips dry as she nodded lightly. Her hands slightly trembled as she shifted food around her plate, eyes moving back to Slughorn before he could manage a nod in return.

It wasn't hard for Draco to act aloof after showing little care for conversation around him. He tried for a while to listen to Slughorn's dominated discussion. But, the older Professor was dull beyond compare, speaking of potions and those famous due to his friendship.

When the liquid in the goblet before him nearly kissed the silver band at the bottom, Potter shifted. His lips moved slightly, though no sound came out, and the goblet slowly started to refill with deep burgundy liquor. Draco huffed a nearly inaudible laugh, offering Hermione a mouthed brilliant when she glanced his way.

Potter's oddly animated features met Hermione's a moment later, a broad grin stretching his face. And it was only then that Draco realized the man already ingested the Felix Felicis. That he was being led by what felt right, and Draco merely had to believe it would carry them on the correct course.

The more his goblet refilled, the extra boisterous and unrestrained Slughorn seemed to become. Sharing stories that McGonagall had to silence before their finale, eyes writhing toward the younger children still lingering. Draco could see the incredulous look on his godfather's face as he rocked his head and knew that the Headmaster held his fingers laced across his lips to hide a grin.

"Oh, hell, Dumbledore!" Slughorn shouted suddenly, his jolly figure rumbling his bench. "It's nearly a new year. Surely some real fireworks would do!"

Before anyone could halt him, Slughorn withdrew his wand and pointed it skyward. Sparks erupted with an agile wave, exploding toward the ceiling and shattering noisily into raining fire of purple and blue. Two younger students walking toward the door yelped, flinging their arms and hands up to cover their heads as they sped through the exit with shrieks.

Slughorn was able to discharge another firework, green and red sparks filling the space with light and raucous racket before Dumbledore floated the wand from his hand.

Hermione's eyes narrowed a bit, a scoff leaving her lips on an eye roll as Professor Flitwick began to chuckle. McGonagall withdrew her wand with an exasperated glower, casting a faint shield charm to dissipate the raining embers. Dumbledore's sights shifted to Harry's with a minute, single nod, and Draco felt his heart race with trepidation.

"Chaps - might be time I turn in. Wine has caught up with me tonight," Slughorn slurred, his face a bit white as he pulled his lips into a thin grin.

He stood, nearly toppling over as he sought to keep balance, thumping his hand on the table and slipping. His round stomach slapped against his plate, causing it to hurl off the table with a clash, knocking his wine goblet over and flinging liquid sprawling against the wood. Hermione's eyes widened, her lips moving faintly as the fluid ceased flowing endlessly.

Harry stood quickly, an unmistakable look on his features that screamed eagerness. "I'll walk you to your quarters, Professor."

"Yes, lad, good plan. Good plan," Slughorn hiccuped.

Draco scoffed, leveling Potter with a sneer that felt a bit peculiar now. "You? You can hardly navigate the castle on your own, let alone lead my Head of House to his chambers."

"Then you should accompany him, Mr. Malfoy," Severus intoned, a deadpan look on his face as he cracked open the crust of a crème brulee.

Harry looked affronted for a second, gawking down at Severus' solid sneer, playing his part rather well. "Sir -"

"I will not tolerate insolence. Draco, go."

Slughorn stumbled as he set course for the Great Hall doors, Potter ambling in his wake. Draco rose swiftly, meeting Potter at the man's side as he stumbled forward. Potter chuckled lightly, eyes wide and excited as he slid the drunken Professor's arms about his shoulders. Draco followed suit, though he wished he hadn't.

Slughorn was a lump of a man, and his drunkenness did not help. He dragged his feet, shuffling slowly up the stairs as Draco struggled under his weight. His wand itched for him to cast a Levitating charm on the man's shoes to alleviate the pressure on his shoulders. Yet, Potter seemed to be weathering the weight well - his face was still alight as the balding man babbled unintelligibly, leaning further into the Chosen One.

The Professor's chamber door was unlocked, and the notion didn't surprise Draco in the least. Hauling him through the door, Potter set course to a worn couch at the room's center, and the sofa significantly shook as they released the man into it. Though, he didn't notice; his eyes were already closed, mouth wide as his head lulled to the side in slumber.

"Potter, I think he drank too much," Draco sneered, snapping his fingers before the man's face to no response.

However, his companion didn't answer, merely paced toward the wooden potions cabinet across the room. He rummaged through it for a while, pulling out with wide eyes and an effulgent expression. "He has something here to help."

"Are you alright, Potter? You look -"

"I'm fantastic, mate. Fantastic. Just keen," he supplied, withdrawing his wand.

"What -"

"Feels right, mate. Accio Sober-Up," Potter pronounced, and a desk drawer across the room shook, slipping open suddenly as a vial thrust through the air into his hand. Potter grinned brightly, lofting it triumphantly. "Knew it."

"Sobering him up won't do, Potter."

"Of course not," he said firmly, stepping to a drink tray.

Unstoppering the vial, Potter rocked three droplets of the red liquid into a glass of water. With a quick flourish of his wrist, he lofted the mixture and stepped back to the quietly snoring Professor. His face crumpled for a moment, lips pursing oddly as his eyes scanned Slughorn's face. And Draco nearly choked on a laugh as Potter shrugged, slapping the man's rosy cheeks with a loud smack.

Slughorn started, head shaking as his eyes snapped open. "Oh, my boy," Slughorn grumbled. "When did we get back to my chambers?"

"Malfoy and I brought you up a bit ago. Can you drink this, Professor?"

Slughorn's gaze shifted around Potter then, his still glazed eyes bouncing around in his sockets lightly. He seemed affronted for a moment, a sneer forming his features as he leaned back.

"I'm a bit shocked to see you both here," Slughorn uttered in a low tone, accepting the water with a quick sip. "Working with a Malfoy…"

And the noxious tone of his surname hissed through drunken lips did not surprise Draco in the slightest. Frankly, he felt the same way about the name. Disgusted. Tainted. Unredeemable.

Potter stood straight, a stone stare growing over his features for the first time that night. He nodded to the couch opposite Slughorn before taking a seat. Draco joined him, and the older man seemed to stiffen slightly as his slow gaze shifted between the two young men.

"I think, sir, that Malfoy sides deeper with the more… rebellious side of the Black family than his Malfoy blood."

Potter's gaze never left Slughorn, but Draco couldn't help but turn and gawk at the side of his face. A genuine compliment, at least that's how Draco perceived it, had fallen from his once-enemy's lips. He wasn't entirely convinced Potter meant the words, his potion likely willing him to lie. Still, the possibility that anyone saw him comparable to his aunt Andromeda and cousin Nymphadora made a unique surge of pride bubble in his abdomen.

"Ah! The Blacks," Slughorn said boisterously, countenance shifting more accepting second by second. "So many wonderful prizes in that lot. Regulus. Andromeda, she was a delight. But that sister," he paused, taking another sip of water.

"Narcissa?" Draco offered.

"No, no, the other one. The oldest. She was… well, downright vile. Your mother was a pliant girl. Quiet. Spent most of her time with Snape or in the hospital wing helping Poppy."

He hiccupped again, his inebriated state shifting through and forgetting thoughts and hate in seconds. "Good girl, she was. Shame she got tangled with the Malfoy's."

"I agree, sir."

"You speak ill to your own blood? I would think a Malfoy pride ran deep."

"Within my father, it does. I -"

Slughorn scoffed, mocking a spit toward his shoes. "Despicable man. I could see the hate in his eyes as clear as the blonde hair on his head."

"It never faded," Draco said rather scornfully.

"I saw it in your eyes, too, boy. You can't escape it. Your Manor may have burned down, but I bet you will build a bigger one to house that beast."

"Sir -"

"Potter," Draco hissed in a hushed hum, lofting his hand only slightly to stop his companion's words. "I must say, Professor, I believe we've gotten off to a… preconceived start. I wish to make one thing clear - I do not support the Dark Lord."

Slughorn's shock was apparent, confusion crashing against his expression as his eyes widened in Draco's direction. His mouth opened twice, brows knitting together before he closed his lips together without making a sound.

"I have loyalties, and they lie with two incredibly powerful women: my mother, the first. I will work against anything that seeks to harm her. Death Eaters and a despot be damned."

"The Dark Lord punished Narcissa recently, Professor," Potter chimed in. "Malfoy's love for his mother only rivals my own for -"

"Lily. Who couldn't like her?" Slughorn hiccupped, his face softening into a frown. "I don't imagine anyone who met her wouldn't have liked her… courageous… clever, too. Intelligent... What a tragedy."

"I agree, sir. And we're trying to stop so many more."

"But we've got one thing standing in our way," Draco appended.

Slughorn looked a bit worried, drawing the water to his lips once more with a hesitant sip. "I know what you want, but I cannot give it to you."

"You praise Lily, but you won't help her son?" Potter said rather harshly, evidently emboldened by the potion in his stomach.

"It… isn't a question. If it were to help you, of course, my boy… but no purpose can be served…"

"It can. It will. We need information," Potter stated resolutely. "Dumbledore needs information."

Potter leaned forward then, scarcely touching the sofa as he leveled Slughorn's lidded eyes with a stare that could easily penetrate a stone wall. "I am the Chosen One. I have to kill Voldemort. I need that memory."

A chill ran up Draco's spin, one that evidently echoed in the drunken Professor's subconscious. Slughorn flinched at the name, features stretching into an affronted yet terrified sneer that Draco knew all too well. Surely Potter had messed up. Surely whatever pull was driving his brashness was luck no longer.

"You are the Chosen One?" Slughorn questioned with a hint of intrigue in his tone.

"Of course, I am."

Slughorn's brow furrowed further, his head shaking slightly back and forth as his glazed eyes sought anything other than Potter's. "My dear boy… you're asking a great deal - you're asking me to aid your attempt to destroy -"

"You don't wish to rid the world of the monster that murdered Lily?" Potter interrupted with a gruff timbre that made Slughorn wince. "Who murdered my parents and so many others? Who sanctioned a kidnapping to murder a muggle-born? Who allowed the torture of a woman for having a son who thought on his own?"

Slughorn's gaze flicked between the two of them, and Draco had to stifle the shock of Potter's brazen use of his mother's torture. The elderly Professor resembled irrefutable fear, undoubtedly so—the quiver of his lips, the dart of his eyes, and his hand's tremble as he supped his water. Draco had seen it before. On every Death Eater's face as they coward at the feet of a manic madman.

"You're scared he'll find out you've helped the Order," Draco stated, and Slughorn's gaze found his, a slight nod of his quivering head.

"Be brave like my mother, Professor. Be brave like Draco."

"I am not proud… I am ashamed of the damage I may have done that day."

Potter scooted every slightly forward, divesting the man's hands of his water. "You can cancel out everything you did that day if you just give me the memory."

Draco watched - a spectator to the silent standoff before him. Slughorn's gaze never shied, his eyes flickering around the expanse of Potter's face as the Chosen One held steadfastly. Scarcely blinking. A determination in his jaw that he could have only learned from Hermione.

A long silence lingered in the chamber, questions and answers playing across Slughorn's unhindered appearance as Potter merely sat. Waiting. It seemed Felicis knew precisely the moves to make, the words to say and not to say. Because with a shaking hand, Slughorn pulled out his wand, the other slipping into his lapel to withdraw a vial.

The tip of his wand glew a pale silver as he shifted it to his temple, a grimace forming his lips as he closed his eyes. It took a moment and a few deep breaths before he gradually retreated his wand. A shimmering silver thread pulled from his skin's pores, stretching far before it fell limp, swinging brightly from his wand's top.

The memory coiled in the container as Slughorn lowered it, crowding every inch of glass like vapor as he pushed the stopper in with a shaking hand. "Just… don't think too badly of me when you've seen it."

"You have helped the world, Professor. I could not possibly," Potter affirmed, sliding the vial from the older Professor's fingers.

"If you don't mind, boy, I'd like to rest now…"

"Of course, sir," Potter declared, rising. "Again, sir. Thank you."

Slughorn merely waved them off, joining his eyelids with a somewhat dejected expression. Draco rose swiftly, trailing Potter to the door, who didn't glance back before pacing into the corridor beyond.

"Took long enough," Hermione's whisper echoed as the chamber door sealed, her figure appearing from underneath Potter's cloak.

Potter merely nodded, walking past her toward the stairs to below. "It takes time to convince an old man that people aren't who the world wants them to be, 'Mione."

Surprise graced Hermione's face that matched the same undulating in him. Another off-handed statement about his allegiances lingering as Hermione's curls shook, eyebrows knitting in shock as she followed him out.

"And by the way, when did you get my cloak? And why wasn't Malfoy surprised about it or the map?"

"Well, he knows about them. He's used it," Hermione offered, falling into step with her best mate, who slung an arm around her shoulder with a laugh.

"You should ask for permission, 'Mione."

Potter couldn't seem to quiet as they trekked down flights of stairs to Dumbledore's office. He showed no disconcertedness about Draco's knowledge of his valuables, nothing hindering his diatribe. Merely chattered about schoolwork and Quidditch. And much to Potter's luck, it seemed, Severus was standing outside the Headmaster's gargoyle, which slid to a stop as they crossed into the corridor.

"Evening, Professor!" Harry beamed, frantically waving as he passed by Severus, ascending the stairs with a grin.

"How something can make you more incorrigible is beyond me, Potter."

"Imagine spending all evening with him," Draco scoffed.

Hermione lightly scoffed though she did not speak as she passed by them. But her determined sneer lingered on Draco's godfather for a long moment before she disappeared. A resigned countenance splayed across Severus' features before he sighed, inclining his head, directing Draco up the stairs.

Dumbledore and Potter were huddled together around a stone basin, their faces sunk into the unmistakable liquid of a Pensieve when Draco reached the summit.

Hermione stood in the center of the room, clutching her arms tightly about her center as she dazedly stared at the sofa. The couch on which they sat before leaving for his Manor days prior. Before her entire life changed in less than thirty minutes. And when she flinched as he set a hand on her shoulder, Draco felt sorrow grow in him anew. Her eyes were red, watery when she met his gaze, and she looked miserable. Discontented. Tragic.

They waited in silence for a while, her sights scarcely leaving the sofa until Dumbledore's head emerged, dry, from the Pensieve's liquid. His bushy eyebrows were knit in obvious concern, an untrivial expression upon his face that made the typically somber features hard. He clicked his tongue quietly once as he pulled Harry's shoulder upward.

A potion drifted through the room then, hovering before Potter. Dumbledore nodded, and Potter followed his head, unstoppering the vial with a bright grin. Quiet prevailed in the chamber as he downed the vessel of thick liquid, his expression growing firm and more cognizant as the seconds slipped by. He shook his head slightly, eyes training to Dumbledore with a worried expression. 

"Sir..." 

"You all have done well. I have been hoping for this information for a very long time."

"Headmaster, have you confirmed our beliefs?" 

Dumbledore nodded softly, bushy brows targeting Severus. "Im afraid we have, Severus. Horace provided Voldemort information no book could ever offer - how to become immortal."

"Immortal, sir? That is improbable," Hermione queried, her tone firm but apprehensive.

"Improbable, but not impossible, Ms. Granger. Armed with this memory, we are one step closer to the secret of finishing Lord Voldemort. Splitting one's soul into seven..."

Hermione gasped, her eyes widening. "He's made seven?"

"I do believe six, Ms. Granger. The seventh piece of his soul resides in his newly regenerated body."

"How are we to find six different items?"

"Four, Harry," Hermione stated adamantly. "You've destroyed two already."

"The journal and the ring," Draco echoed.

"Both ordinary things," Harry mused. "The rest could be anything. Empty potions bottles, tin cans?"

Dumbledore rocked his head, sinking into the chair behind his desk. "No, Harry, these items were personal to Voldemort. The ring belonged to the Gaunt family. The last descendants of Slytherin."

"And the journal?" Severus added.

"Harry said himself that it showed his connection to the founder, as well."

"The founders!" Hermione shouted suddenly, standing "They all left one thing in the castle as their legacy. Hogwarts, a History has a passage on it."

"Your deduction is very keen, Ms. Granger."

"The locket! And the cup!" Harry blurted, but Draco couldn't connect the dots of his enthusiasm.

"Precisely, Harry. Precisely. There was the reason I showed you those memories. And if we add in Ravenclaw's diadem, we make our total five."

"What about Gryffindor's sword?"

"Another viable option, Mr. Malfoy. Though, I have held possession of the sword for nearly as long as Voldemort has been alive. So alas, not our sixth option. No, no. I believe it is the snake."

Draco shuddered, images of Nagini slithering across the Manor's marble attacking his psyche. "That bloody thing is a monster."

"We're to look for these items," Hermione stated matter-of-factly, eyes darting back and forth as her mind whirled with thoughts.

"Yes, Ms. Granger. And you must do so as quietly as possible. Informing no one."

The room was quiet for a long second before Hermione nodded intently. "If we find and destroy them, will he… will he be mortal?"

"I do believe so, yes," Dumbledore responded firmly. "Voldemort's shell would be transient and could then succumb to death."

"Do you have any ideas on the locations of the items, sir?" Potter questioned.

"Severus and I are tracking leads toward one, but nothing has returned viable as of yet."

"I'll research whereabouts," Hermione stated resolutely.

"On that, I am counting, Ms. Granger."

She looks remarkably determined—a fit of anger in her eyes that was unmistakable. An icy draft seeping from her clasped hands that Draco hadn't felt since the day her mother died. A resolute furrow of her brows giving away the unmitigated determination to bring down the Dark Lord and everyone around him.

The resolute set of her shoulders lingered as the conversation waned. As his godfather led the trio from the chamber to the stairs. As she barely nodded and ascended the steps with Potter, leaving Draco and Severus in her wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The funeral scene is based on Celtic pagan burials.  
> Spirits in each direction represent different elements, and their placements were deliberate. I have also taken some direct quotes from their rituals.
> 
> West = water  
> East = air  
> North = earth  
> South = fire
> 
> Some statements in this chapter mirror the sixth Harry Potter book.


	15. Tears to a New Ally

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovies! I hope you enjoy this chapter. I would like to thank [ whith96 ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whith96/pseuds/Whith96)for her lovely work as an Alpha for this story! Thank you for your feedback on this chapter.
> 
> I know I'm late, and I can make no excuses. I couldn't find a muse to write this sucker. But I do hope you enjoy the feels in this chapter! Also I made a new graphic / aesthetic. Let me know your thoughts! :)
> 
> Forever unbetad on this one. Just me and my homie Grammarly.

  


Dark rings.

Dull brown eyes, rimmed with a pink scar of a torture long past.

Lifeless, shower-soaked curls that clung to flushed and somewhat hollowed cheeks.

Profoundly absent smile - no happiness written in any centimeter of her appearance.

It was undeniable - the witch reflected was someone Hermione could not recognize. She had avoided mirrors for days, uncertain whether she'd be capable of looking herself in the eye. Unsure if the person who would stare back would be the headstrong head of curls that made her, her.

Though for whatever obtuse reason, Hermione deemed today was the day - a week after the New Year and nearly two weeks following the tragedies at Malfoy Manor. Today, she could manage herself, could examine herself. After her shower, standing before the mirror with eyes shut tightly, she had inhaled deeply. And as they opened, the realization of the truth in her thoughts dawned - that plucky, young, hopeful witch was gone.

The person in the mirror was a shell, running on the fumes produced with each growl of her stomach. Surviving off the tears she shed while lying awake in the Room of Requirement. Clinging desperately to manuscripts to shield her mind from the horrific images plaguing her psyche throughout the endless evening hours.

Grimacing so profoundly she thought she could feel it in her fingertips, Hermione sheathed her hair in a towel and threw open the bathroom door.

"Hermione! Hi!"

Lavender Brown's screech echoed against the walls of Hermione's brain as she shuffled toward her bed. The towel wrapped about her ears did little to stave off the irritatingly high pitch of her dorm mate come enemy come acquaintance come enemy anew. However, the girl's bright smile as she prattled uselessly with Parvati made Hermione believe the two were once again on accepting terms.

"Welcome back," Hermione nodded imperceptibly.

Brown rose from her mattress, nearly squealing, "Thanks! Did you have a good break?"

"It was…" Hermione stalled as her sights settled upon Brown's shirt. Or rather, her sweater. A Weasley special - bright pink with a large purple L directly in the center. "Fine."

"I'm so happy to hear it! Mine was absolutely splendid! Oh, but I'm sure you know. Gin-Gin or Won-Won probably told you."

Gin-Gin? It seemed Ginny now had an… affectionate name. "You seem spirited…"

"Oh, I -"

But at that moment, the door burst inward with a wholly flustered Ginny, cutting the dirty-blonde girl's words short. Lavender screeched again, making Hermione's teeth grind together as the girl hastily wrapped her arms about Ginny's neck. The redhead merely sneered, her arms held wide as a deathly grimace made Hermione choke.

"Oh, Gin-gin! It's so good to see you!"

The redhead - Gin-Gin, Hermione snickered - scoffed. "We _just_ saw one another for a week straight, Brown."

"I know, but I missed you on the train!"

"You barged into my compartment four times today…"

"Five would have been better."

"Sure, Brown," Ginny jeered, clutching Lavender's shoulders and shoving her away with a touch of callousness. "'Mione, care to take a walk?"

With a flourish of her wand, the towel unraveled and gravitated toward the bathroom as the substantial weight of soaked curls vanished. "Happily."

Seizing the bag she'd charmed to expand, allowing more room for books, she trod toward the hallway where Ginny now stood, rapping her foot with an annoyed grimace. The two were scarcely three steps down from the summit before Ginny groaned, wearing a sneer so engrained it appeared as if she hadn't smiled once during her winter holiday.

"You two certainly seem chummy, Gin-Gin."

Ginny groaned again, running a hand down her face as they stepped into the common room. "She spent the whole bloody holiday at the Burrow! Every. Waking. Hour. Mum let her stay, and _she slept in my room_."

The chatter saturating the common room was a welcome change to the searing silence that lingered after she, Harry, and Draco's return. Happiness swelled the air as students played Exploding Snaps, others merely conversing and laughing with friends before the fire. Neville and Seamus offered Hermione bright grins and enthusiastic waves of greeting as Ginny laced their arms.

Thrusting open the portrait hole door with pure aggression, Ginny hauled Hermione through it rather flamboyantly, setting course for somewhere neither seemed to care. Strolling languidly through the setting sun's rays that scarcely streamed through the windows.

"Ron, the git, just ate it up."

"So, I take it they are back together?"

"Since the train home. Was put out that you and Harry didn't come, and for some Merlin forsaken reason, he went to her."

"Only logical. I'm sure Neville, Dean, Seamus, and countless others were all tied up."

Ginny cackled aloud, tugging Hermione down a quiet corridor. "None of them would snog him endlessly like she did. And please believe me when I say it was _endless_. I couldn't go five minutes without walking in on that disaster."

Hermione retched mockingly. "I truly don't need the image, Gin."

The utter dramatics of Ginny's flailing hands and the frequent, profound roll of her eyes bubbled laughter in Hermione's throat as they wandered. A genuine amusement, which she hadn't welcomed in nearly two weeks. Something she'd missed desperately throughout the Christmas hols.

"Well, it's burned into my brain, and I don't want to suffer alone. All. Day. They snogged. And then Bill and _Phlegm_ ," Ginny scoffed, the mucus in her voice making Hermione chuckle anew, "showed up. And of course, we had to have girl time. Merlin, 'Mione, I wanted to pull every single hair out of my head."

"Each one?"

" _Each. One_. I would rather have sat through seventy-two straight hours of Professor Binns' History lectures while Fred and George's Dungbombs exploded every minute than listen to Brown and Phlegm talk about their bloody hair. Or gods, listen to that nasally witch sing another carol."

Hermione chortled aloud at the utter disgust on her best girlfriend's face. "Oh, no. Fleur sang?"

"Yes! And you weren't even there to laugh with me!"

"I know, Gin… I'm sorry."

Ginny gently nudged Hermione's hip with her own as they strolled to a quiet, vacant stone bench in the middle of the corridor. Students were back, but the hallways were still barren. Most were in their dorms, swapping presents with friends and eating the inordinate quantities of sweets they'd amassed over the break.

A notion that gradually allowed sorrow to crawl into Hermione's gut. This year, she'd received two gifts, which remained unopened - a brown paper shrouded Molly Weasley knit and one wrapped from Harry. The sight of them resting upon her mattress when they returned had made her weep, taunting her with her loss, her suffering. She'd shoved both deep inside her trunk without a second thought - until now.

"I'm just jealous. I wish I could have stayed here. Would have been much quieter."

"And Blaise was here."

Ginny grinned brightly, eyes meeting Hermione's with a single wink as she tugged her onto the bench. "It's fine, Charlie showed up Christmas Eve, and we hung out! He left on Christmas, though. Something about a dragon."

Hermione had to stifle a fresh welling of tears as a wave of deep depression crashed over her psyche. Had to overpower her lips' desire to turn downward, not permitting them to fall back into a perpetual frown.

She couldn't tell Ginny about her mother or Moody or Ted Tonks, even if she ached to. If no one had yet to inform the youngest Weasley, Hermione's parents' capture, torture, and her mother's eventual murder were being kept secret behind tight lips.

And Ginny was simply too young. She may only be slightly over a year younger, but she'd yet to grow in emotional maturity. Hermione already felt somewhat uncomfortable about the knowledge she'd shared over the past few weeks. Of sharing her connection with Draco. Of putting Ginny in unknowable danger for no valid reason other than gossip.

"I'm… I'm sorry that I missed it."

"Fred and George were really sad you didn't make it. They planned special fireworks for you for New Year's! I told them just to wait until Easter."

Hermione nodded as Ginny gabbed, sadness overfilling in her emotions. Easter would come quickly, and she had a nagging suspicion that she'd be staying behind at the castle again.

"I've been rambling. How's Draco doing?"

Hermione started, a bit stunned by the abruptness. "What?"

"The Manor burned down, right? I saw it in the papers. I bet Vol… I bet _he_ was involved…" she stalled. "How's he doing? His mum? You didn't owl me after he ran into Slug's party all mad."

Hermione's throat constricted, words catching on a lump she tried to swallow away. Ginny's eyebrows knit together slowly as she scanned Hermione's features.

"So he's -"

"Doing fine," Hermione cut in quietly. "As is Narcissa. They are safe and weren't around when the Manor burned."

"Good. I'm glad to hear it," Ginny responded. "Where is his mum staying?"

"He mentioned a chateau in France…"

"Well, that's certainly an upgrade," Ginny chuckled with a slight roll of her eyes, standing. "Come on."

"To where, Gin?"

"The dungeons. You've gotten to see your Slytherin all holiday, and I've missed mine."

Hermione wanted to flinch but merely waved her hand. "You go on, Gin. I need to…"

Ginny pouted, stomping her feet childishly. "Please, do not say 'get to the library.'"

"Get to the library," Hermione sassed, an eyebrow hoisted at the redhead standing before her.

"Term hasn't even started!"

"And that doesn't mean there aren't things to be read."

"At least walk with me down?"

"I've left something in the dorm…"

"Fine," Ginny huffed. "I'll see you at the feast?"

"...yes. Yes, I'll see you at the feast."

Ginny huffed over but nodded, ticking her lips into a slight smile as she waved and strode from the quiet corridor.

Hermione took a moment to collect herself, trying to calm the cold sadness licking at every centimeter of her skin. Her mind raced with images of the week prior as she stood, moving quickly toward the corridor holding Barnabas the Barmy's tapestry. Begging the castle to show her their shabby wooden door.

To let her back into the solitary sanctuary that she'd found, caved in between texts and tomes unlimited. To the place where she could close off her mind and hide between the lines of dusty old books.

Hermione's weary legs gave out as she slumped into her well-worn chair at the small table. She shouldn't have left. Shouldn't have abandoned the only place she felt comfortable, protected. But the grime on her teeth and the knots in her hair had called her to her dorm.

Shaking her head, she snatched the first book her hand found as she plunged it into her bag. Hauling it open, she leaned in and let her mind go blank. She read through texts for hours, uselessly, until the faint click of an old doorknob echoed over the sound of turning pages.

"I knew you'd be here," Draco's voice hummed through the smallness of their room.

Hermione merely nodded, eyes not shifting from _Dark Relics and Rarities_. "Your assumptions were correct."

"When was the last time you left this room?" His footsteps were as soft as his voice.

"I went back to the dorms this evening for a bath. I even talked to Ginny."

He paused beside her, hand swiping across the pages of her book and drawing it closed quickly. She scoffed, driving her hands down against the wooden table in annoyance. "Draco! I'm in the middle of -"

"You need to take a break."

"I can't take a break," she felt herself snarl, wrapping her fingers around his clothed wrist, trying to pry his hand away. Draco merely forced his strength down harder.

"When was the last time you ate?"

"That doesn't -"

"It does matter, Hermione."

The use of her given name belatedly startled her eyes upward, and the expression written on his face sought to seep through her psyche. He was worried - more so than the furrow of his brow or earnest tone of his voice or downturn of his lips exposed.

The hearth rumbled to life on the opposite side of the room as Draco's free hand fell to her bicep. Drawing her upward slowly, he nestled an arm about her back, and he lifted her with ease through her meager protests.

"Draco -"

"Hush."

She squirmed some, attempting to escape his clutches, but he merely held tighter as he carried her toward the sofa. "Draco, stop, I need -"

"You _need_ to take a break. You _need_ to eat."

"I'm fine, Draco."

He was gentle as he deposited her on the couch, back pressing against the armrest and legs outstretched across both cushions. Curving a hand under both of her knees, he raised her legs somewhat and settled onto the sofa beneath them.

"You're not," he began, fingers tugging open the laces of her trainers, eyes glued there. "And you need to accept that. It's okay. You have every right to be unhappy. You're allowed to be depressed. You're allowed to feel… But you have to allow it."

"Draco, what -"

He simply shook his head, removing one shoe and uttering with an inquisitive tone, "Dobby?"

Much to both of their surprises, the wide eyes and happy ears sticking through a familiar knitted hat that she'd grown fond of popped into her line of vision. Dobby nodded to Draco gently, toes wiggling in pink knitted socks as he offered Hermione a bright grin.

"Dobby, thank you for coming. How are you tonight?"

"Dobby's well, sir!"

"I am glad to hear it. Hermione here is not as well. Would you mind bringing her a plate of the roast from dinner?"

Dobby's ears lowered slowly, wide-eyed attention turning back to Hermione. "Miss not bein' okay?"

"I am fine, Dobby. Draco is merely -"

"She's not well, Dobby," Draco interrupted, and Hermione huffed. "Is food possible?"

"Dobby be seein' it, sir. Dobby bein' right back." And without a second nod, Dobby popped away.

"...He sees it?"

"And I know you do, too, Hermione." Draco's expression was sobering as he shifted off her remaining shoe, still not meeting her gaze. "You're smart - I know that you know you're overworking yourself."

"I'm trying to find answers as quickly as I can."

"No, you're -"

Dobby popped back in at that moment, holding a plate of roast and potatoes nestled next to a slice of cake and a goblet of pumpkin juice. He worriedly smiled as he placed the food in Hermione's lap, tucking a napkin into her shirt, disregarding her complaining.

Draco huffed a quiet laugh. "Thank you, Dobby. Hermione and I have things to discuss if you could excuse us."

"Dobby be takin' care of miss," the small elf said resolutely, picking up a knife and fork to cut her meat.

Hermione set her hand atop the small elf's with a faint smile. His wide, concerned eyes met hers, and she had to stifle yet another silent sob. "Dobby, I appreciate your concern, but I am fine... Draco and I need some time to speak alone, is all."

Dobby sputtered somewhat, glancing between the two teens before he nodded, set down the silverware, and popped away with a troubled glance. A troubled glance that paled in comparison to the apprehension etched within Draco's as she let her gaze wander to his. His eyes looked like crystal as they peered into hers, a slight sheen reflecting the fire's dance.

"You're hiding," he murmured, scarcely above a whisper. "You're not facing what happened. You haven't been sleeping, have you?"

"...no."

"Should you need someone to talk to, Granger, I hope you know I am here for you."

She remained quiet for a time, opting to tuck into the meal before responding, "There's… there's nothing else to talk about."

"I can think of at least seven things we should -"

"No…" Hermione uttered, her voice cracking. "Just… please..."

He looked pleading as he leaned toward her, voice now thick with authority, "You can't keep going at this pace, Granger. You're running yourself ragged. When was the last time you truly slept without sneaking back here?

"Last -"

"More than an hour because you dozed off on your books? Or because I made you?" he demanded sternly, a hand falling to her shin and kneading lightly. "It has been a week since the New Year. Term starts back tomorrow, and your lack of sleep is going to be a detriment to your grades."

Hermione swore the weight of his gaze was palpable as she ate, like acute punctures of a needle on her face, which she refused to lift toward his. He was correct, and the most distressing part was that her misery was noticeable. She'd brushed off Harry's concern over the past week, but he'd noticed it too.

The struggle of surviving. The internal war that raged over her loss. The constant crash of melancholy on her mind as she refused to sleep. Refused to close her eyes and inevitably replay that midnight so fresh in her subconscious.

"Granger," Draco whispered, hand tightening reassuringly on her leg. "You need to talk to me. Please…"

Her jaw quivered, her lips stretching into a broad grimace as the dense heat of tears welled along her lower lid. "...I can't close my eyes without seeing her just… just lying there."

Suddenly, the tray on her lap vanished, and he drew her into his lap. Draco's arms encircled her, stable and unyielding, as a hand slid along her curls, tucking her head into the junction of his neck.

"It should have been me," she sobbed.

"Don't say that."

"It should have…" she murmured again, voice cracking with the thick tears she shed. "The spell… at me…" Hiccup. "He shot it at me."

Draco's arms tightened about her, nearly crushing her into his chest. "Tell me what happened. I can't help if I don't know…"

"The Sapphire…" she whispered.

Silence lingered, the single sound saturating the space her sobs. The longer he remained silent, the closer in he drew her. As if he was attempting to melt their hearts together to take on her pain. As if somehow holding her impossibly close could trickle some variety of happiness beneath her skin.

She wept into the crook of his neck, liquid tears still not forming what had once been icy slush. His aura felt tender as it tried to soothe hers, attempting to overcome all of the anxiety in her form. But it seemed as though every ounce of melancholy within her battled tirelessly against his warmth. Nevertheless, he held her, whispering soothing affirmation as she wept more fluid than her body could have possibly possessed - long, silent sobs coming out moistureless by then end.

Eventually, he drew her head back softly, wet eyes scanning her face with unmitigated concern. "What do you mean, 'the Sapphire'?"

"It reflected Dolohov's curse…" Hermione whispered and watched the confusion, sorrow, rage, and guilt flash over his features. "It protected me. Twice. But it… it killed mum."

"It was my fault, Granger…" he muttered, eyes frantically scanning her appearance. She merely rocked her head in disagreement, but his face grew stern. "I gave you that Sapphire. I begged you to wear it…"

"And if it weren't for the necklace, I never would have made it to see mum one last time. Greyback would have killed me."

"What?"

"When I got to the ballroom, he and another Death Eater were there. I dueled them, and I was losing... If it weren't for the necklace and Moody, I would have died."

"I shouldn't have let you go in by yourself."

She shook her head again, setting a soft hand on his cheek. Finally - finally - his aura won, seeping along her psyche and cleansing away the slightest bit of dread. "I've had plenty of time to think about that night, Draco… Neither of us was responsible. Only one madman is to blame, and it isn't either of us."

"I -"

"You," she interjected. "Were extremely brave. And you save your mother's life. You saved my dad's and my life."

"I just sent you to the safe house," he whispered. "I was a coward."

"No, you weren't. You rushed into battle. You left yourself without an escape in the middle of an onslaught. Like some mad Gryffindor."

He huffed a watery laugh, face still troubled as tears skated down both their cheeks. "I'm meant to be consoling you."

Hermione let her thumb shift carefully along his cheek, wiping away moisture. "You are."

Draco smiled half-heartedly, leaning forward to press his lips to Hermione's forehead. She allowed herself to relish the feel - something she hadn't truly known she'd missed until that moment. He tugged her in close once more, and she nuzzled into the crook of his neck. Welcomed his firm hand that rubbed her back and kneaded her neck lightly.

If anyone had questioned Hermione at the start of the year, if Draco Malfoy were someone she trusted, she would have laughed in their face. But here she sat, nestled into the comfort of his arms, giving her everything to him and receiving trust, security, and compassion in return.

They remained quiet for a while before he shifted her back to sit beside him, lowering a hand to her knee as she laid her head on his shoulder.

"Crabbe didn't make it back on the train," he started a short while later. "No one saw him, and he hasn't returned to the castle yet. He would never miss a return feast, and he was absent."

"...You think he -"

He nodded, eyes steadfast on the fire in the hearth. "I'm almost positive he did."

"Maybe he's merely been held up…"

"I do not doubt that he is right beside Pansy…" Hermione flinched at the name with a sneer. "I saw her that night. She was outside of Mother's room, failing to guard the Death Eater trying to break her wards."

"Did you -"

"Stunned her—both of them. I don't know how they made it out. Or my father."

Hermione sat up at that, head thrashing a bit too sharply toward his gaze. "You saw Lucius? And you didn't tell me?"

Draco grimaced, his shoulders wincing lightly. "I dueled him, technically. He showed up after I Portkeyed you. He looked… he looked awful. Azkaban disagreed with him."

"And it shouldn't have," she snarled.

"Do not misunderstand. I fully believe Lucius deserved it," Draco affirmed, a bit too quietly. "He told me that night that he was responsible for killing the Manor elves meant to protect Mother… He said if the Dark Lord didn't wish to kill me himself, he wouldn't hesitate."

Hermione slid her hand into his, lacing their fingers and squeezing tightly. He tried to smile, but Hermione could see the pain in his eyes.

"I was weak," he whispered. "I bested him. He was on the ground, defenseless, and I still couldn't do it. I couldn't avenge anyone that he'd wrong..."

Hermione let her free hand draw his chin toward her, ensuring their eyes locked. "Draco, not taking someone's life doesn't make you weak. It makes you strong. It makes you better than them. It makes you _good_."

He nodded sharply once, but his expression gave him away. He didn't believe her, but she could understand his hesitation. How could someone raised in the throes of evil accept goodness as wholesomeness? Even if he had known how wrong his family's long-held beliefs were, it couldn't be easy to break so far away. To tell himself that all the things he learned, and all the way he wished to please a father who cared so little, were wrong.

Her hand ghosted along his cheek, shifting into the silk that was his hair. He closed his eyes, leaning into her hand as she raked her nails against his scalp.

"I am proud of you, Draco. As is your mother." She let the words linger in space as his eyes snapped open, confusion gracing his features. "You've done something that men thrice your age cannot. You broke a cycle of ingrained hate. It's going to feel wrong, but what you're doing is very right."

Tears slipped slowly from his eyes, whether happy, sad or confused she wasn't sure. But he nodded and swallowed so thickly she could see it before his hand slipped around her neck and tugged her forward.

Their lips met in a kiss so sweet her fingers tingled. She sighed, leaning into him as his finger slipped into the hair at the base of her skull. It was sweet, but somehow felt desperate - like he'd missed their connection just as much as she had. But it was over well before she wished it to be. He pulled back, brushing the tips of their noses together before pressing his forehead to hers.

"I truly don't know how this turned into you comforting me," he whispered, a quiet, watery laugh wafting against her lips.

"Everyone needs help sometimes."

He merely chuckled, brushing their lips together again before he turned her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and drawing her impossibly close into his side. They sat quiet, one hand running soft patterns down her arm as the other hand laced fingers with her own.

"It appears that the Weasel has reacquainted himself with Brown. Again," he chuckled later, drawing Hermione from her thoughts. "She was practically sitting on his shoulders at the feast."

Hermione scoffed lightly, a still watery sound. "Don't call him Weasel. And she spent the entire holiday at the Weasley's home, according to a highly annoyed Ginny."

"Poor, Red. An entire week with that harpy?"

Hermione lifted her head from his shoulder, a humorous yet exasperated expression crossing her features. "I live with her, you do realize?"

"No wonder you're always in such a foul mood," he smirked, and she could only let out another watery chuckle, swatting his chest.

He reached up quickly and clutched her hand, drawing it back to his heart. The countenance he bore was wholly reflective, brows knit as he stared directly into her eyes. "Granger… I am so sorry."

"I know you are. And I am sorry, as well, Draco."

A soft creaking on the opposite side of the room startled them both, eyes thrashing toward the noise. But the fear was drowned out quickly by Draco's husky laugh.

The Room had offered them a bed.

"I suppose the castle feels we should sleep," he chuckled, standing and offering her a hand.

She accepted, and for the first time since Christmas, she fell into an intense slumber, nestled deep within his arms.

* * *

  
Draco stretched, offloading his weighted schoolbag onto his and Blaise's regular table in the damp, dungeon Potions classroom. He was early, only one other student noiselessly reading at a far table. However, he wasn't alone for long. Hermione sauntered through the doorway moments later, arm laced through Potter's - but all Draco could see was the soft, unobtrusive smile on her face.

He had awoken content this morning, Hermione's cool cheek snuggled into his chest as the fire gently burned in the Room's hearth. He had laid noiseless for a time, eyes shut and relishing the tranquillity of her faint snores, pleased she'd slept throughout the night. Yet, his peace hadn't lasted. Remorse had gradually crept in as he opened his eyes, watching Hermione sleep with a scrunched face and jerking legs. Whether from pain or terror of her dreams, he hadn't been sure, but he had felt the weight of her sorrow settle over him anew.

Her decline during the week following New Year's Eve had progressively grown visible as the days passed. They'd spent every day together in the Room of Requirement, reading and researching, as the depth of her despair slowly crept into her countenance. Dark rings had formed where smooth, tawny skin once sat, frown lines developing between her continually joined eyebrows.

When she hadn't appeared at the Return Feast, Potter's nearly pleading gaze sought his, and Draco had known. He'd waited too long; had let her suffer too long in silence, and it was well beyond time to intervene.

Shameful was the only word he could use to describe how he'd felt as she sat within his lap sobbing. He'd felt wretched. And the sizeable pit in his stomach as she uttered the story of the Sapphire had made him want to retch. Made him want to sob as she comforted him.

He'd touched his lips to her forehead affectionately this morning in silent apology, and the brush of his skin had startled her awake. A small, captivating smile had spanned her features before realization set in. The nearly frantic widening of her eyes as she recognized the time had made him laugh, as had the bouncing of her knotted curls as she rushed about the room to gather her scattered books.

She had halted movement only a moment to grant him an eye-roll and a peck on the cheek before announcing she'd see him in Ancient Runes and rushing from the Room. She'd moved like a blast of fierceness throughout the day, dutifully scrawling notes and spreading her fingers through a clump of bun-escaped curls. She hadn't glanced in his direction once, and he had sought to do the same. But in the few moments that he had permitted his gaze to happen upon her and staring at her now, he couldn't help but notice the changes in her appearance.

While she still appeared troubled, gnawing on her lip with her brows perpetually knit, the lengthy hours of slumber they'd managed and the meals she'd eaten had undoubtedly helped.

Not thoroughly, but the darkened skin ringing her eyes seemed fainter, a far cry from the week prior. They were still puffy from her tears, whites remaining slightly pink with irritation, but she looked more rested. Her skin appeared to have a deeper hue, the tawny intensity returning to a somewhat healthy glow. Though it wasn't broad, she wore a simple smile - something Draco had yearned to see throughout the Christmas holiday.

"Mate," Blaise announced with a deep laugh, dropping his bag onto the table and starling Draco. "Quit staring."

Draco leered somewhat, turning his gaze to the Italian. "I was merely glancing out the window."

"In the dungeons?"

A horrid screech echoed from the hallway before Draco could respond, drawing the now nearly packed classroom's attention. Weasley strolled through the door moments later with Lavender Brown draped around his middle like a leech bearing a noxious grin. She held a quill in her hand, tickling the feather along the tip of his nose as they passed through the room to Hermione's table. The lanky redhead appeared annoyed, and Draco could only chuckle at both his expression and Hermione's as he sat, Brown hopping to sit on the table before him.

The blonde continued to giggle, making sickening smooching sounds as she crushed her lips all over Weasley's face - or Won-Won, Draco gagged. Hermione rolled her eyes as she pulled out her books, Potter rocking his head with a hidden yet somehow obvious annoyance.

"Appears Weasel-bee is on the outs, again."

Draco huffed a laugh. "Likely due to that harpy of a girlfriend."

"Hey, Weasel!" Blaise boomed, and all four Gryffindor's heads snapped in his direction.

Weasley's annoyed grimace shifted in a sneer, his eyes narrowing. "What?"

"Just wondering how your sister is -"

But at that moment, Severus Snape charged through the open door. Black robes billowed behind him as he flicked his wand, candelabras dimming as a chalkboard appeared at the forefront of the room.

"Sit."

Confused glances shifted between students, several sets of eyebrows knitting together as they ambled to their seats. Hermione's inquisitive eyebrow rose in Draco's direction, but he could merely bounce his shoulders almost imperceptibly. He hadn't a clue why Severus was currently sauntering toward where his Head of House should be.

"Ms. Brown," Severus' deep drawl boomed as he approached the head of the chamber, and a petulant frown stretched over the girl's face. "While I understand Professor Slughorn accepts Exceeds Expectations students, I do believe your Potions O.W.L. was well below required."

Brown puffed indignantly, students throughout the room attempting to hide their giggles as she sputtered. She looked to Weasley, who shrugged, causing her to scoff and stand from the table with a huff. She shoved a stack of books onto the floor with a sneer, stomping childishly from the classroom, slamming the door with a thud behind her. Weasel sulked through the evident embarrassment coloring his cheeks, shifting in his stool opposite Hermione, who tried to hide the satisfied smirk she wore.

"Now," Severus began, drawing Draco's attention. "Your assignment for this term is to -"

"Sir, where is Professor Slughorn?" Potter's voice rang out.

"Is he alright?" Another boy - McMillan, Draco thought - added behind him.

Severus' face stretched a deep grimace, his dark, already irritated eyes piercing into a deadly sneer that targeted Potter in a way that was all too familiar. "Your Professor was called away. And that will be 5 points from each of your houses for talking out of turn."

The few Hufflepuffs around the room moaned, their slight lead in the House Cup now narrowed with McMillan's added outburst. Potter only glowered, shoulders slumping in defeat as he turned to whisper something to Hermione.

" _As_ I was saying... your project for this term will be in combination with your Herbology coursework. You will seek new applications of your assigned ingredients with a partner of my appointment. This will be in addition to your daily work, which you will complete with your new partners."

Murmurs and groans erupted around the class, save for Hermione and himself. An inkling of suspension formed over his lips as Hermione's astute glare met his, and he knew the same thought was running through her mind.

Severus flourished his wand once more, and a thin piece of chalk floated through the air. It leisurely began to scratch names on the board.

_Davis, Tracey - Potter, Harry_

_Zabini, Blaise - Patil, Padma_

_Weasley, Ronald - McMillan, Ernie_

_Nott, Theodore - Turpin, Lisa_

_Granger, Hermione - Malfo…_

"No bloody way!"

The deep roar and resounding scraping of wood on stone startled every student in the chamber, all eyes training to a wholly crimson-faced Weasley. His face scrunched in rage as Potter attempted to coax him back into his seat. Hermione appeared utterly disgusted, her face drawn into an annoyed glare that could only rival his own.

"No bloody way she's going to work with Malfoy all term again!"

"Mr. Weasley," Severus intoned with a sneer so fierce it brought back scoldings from Draco's childhood. "If you have a prob -"

"Bloody well right, I have a problem!"

"Ronald!" Hermione exploded, and Draco thought he could see the tips of her curls stand up with magic. "Sit down!"

"'Mione -"

"Do not ''Mione' me! You have no say with whom a Professor chooses to partner me!"

Weasley looked dumbfounded, gawking down at her before his leer deliberately shifted to the opposite side of the room. Draco welcomed the smirk that danced across his lips, which he pursed and used to blow a kiss in Hermione's direction. Steam appeared to billow from Weasley's ears, and he charged forward, all lank and gleaming red face that did little else other than make Draco and Blaise chortle. Potter rose hurriedly, dragging the redhead back by the shoulder.

"Detention, Weasley! And 10 points from Gryffindor for your insolence."

Every student clad in a red tie groaned anew, most shooting scathing grimaces the redhead's direction. All except Hermione, who's eyes remained locked to Draco, her face even and unimpressed.

"My classroom - tonight."

"But sir!" Weasel-bee stammered. "Quidditch -"

"Two nights, Mr. Weasley. Please continue if you would like to spend the rest of your term scrubbing cauldrons."

Weasley offered a relatively non-threatening leer, shrugging off Potter's hand coarsely before collapsing back into his stool. Slamming his book closed with a petulance that resembled Brown's, he huffed indignantly, though it did little to break Severus' resolve.

"If _that_ is through, move to your assigned partners."

Draco smirked as he stood, gathering his belongings slowly and shouldering his bag. "See you later, mate."

Blaise huffed an amused laugh, nodding in parting as Patil stepped up to the table. She thanked Draco for the stool with a reluctant nod as he set course for the opposite side of the room.

"Potter," Draco mocked as he strolled to the raven-haired boy's side, dropping his bag on the table.

Weasley stood quickly, hands slamming against the table. "Shove off, Malfoy."

"I'm here to sit with my _partner_ , per the Professor's instruction, Weasel."

Potter flinched at that, the corner of his lips itching to twitch upward at the insinuation in Draco's tone, and the blonde had to stifle a laugh. He smirked, cocking his chin high at the redhead in a smug taunt, lighting a new fire of crimson up the lanky, freckle-covered neck. Weasel sputtered again and reached to pull out his wand, but Hermione slamming open her book halted all three's movement.

"Ronald," she snapped, eyes never parting from her text. "Go sit with Ernie. Tracey is coming over here for Harry."

The redhead merely snatched his bag from the floor and spun, a flash of crimson nearly toppling over Davis in his wake. The Slytherin girl seemed confused as he pushed around her shoulder angrily, grumbling under his breath. Though, she collected herself with a rather casual shrug and slid into her seat with polite greetings.

Draco nodded in return before opening his bag, beginning to unload his things. "Potter, you're in my seat."

"It's a square table, Malfoy. You can sit on the other side."

Hermione sighed, a hint of annoyance in her temper. "Harry… just move to the other side of the table, please."

Potter looked as though he wished to complain but pushed his things across the table and stood. Where his face would have once held disdain, he simply looked exasperated as he rocked his head, stepping around Draco to slide into the seat beside Davis. Draco sank into the vacated seat, leaning toward Hermione with a smirk.

"Granger."

She lifted her gaze finally, annoyance raising her eyebrows and pursing her lips. "Malfoy."

The irritation lacing his surname sent an odd sort of shiver down Draco's spine, his cockiness faltering slightly. "Do try to contain your enthusiasm. I know. It's thrilling to have me as a _partner_ again."

Harry coughed startlingly as Hermione's eyes narrowed. Draco knew almost immediately he would pay dearly. Both for his snark and for riling Weasel-bee up. Davis drew Potter into a quiet conversation on the opposite side of the table, and Hermione leaned in toward Draco.

"Must you taunt Ronald?" She hissed in a low, annoyed pitch.

He shrugged, trying to look innocent, but he knew it only read smug. "Some habits die slower than others. You saw how red his face was."

She rolled her eyes, turning back to her notes. "Did you ask for this?"

"I did not, but it was surely on purpose. We can all work together in the library again. Including Potter, given Davis frequented our gatherings last term."

"Silence," echoed his godfather's voice, quelling the thick murmurs throughout the room. "Your assignment today is to brew a precise Wound-Cleaning Potion. Instructions are on the board. I will be walking around with your combined coursework assignments. Should you need me, do try to resolve the issue yourself. If you cannot, I suggest a different career path."

"Sir, what page in our text -"

"Your texts are useless, Mrs. Granger," Severus drawled. "I would have hoped you'd realized by now. Your instructions are _on the board_."

Hermione grumbled, drawing out a quill to furiously scribble down the instructions. "Will you go get our ingredients?"

Draco nodded once and stood, pacing to the ingredients cabinet to extract him and Hermione's stored vials. Her's sat neatly arranged, each vial encircled by a shiny, thin, white label about their middles. He smiled to himself, grabbing their bottles of Dittany, Murtlap Essence, and Jabberknoll Feathers before returning to his seat. Severus was rounding behind Hermione as Draco returned, a raised black eyebrow meeting his gaze as the blonde sank into his stool.

Severus dropped a roll of parchment onto the table between them, whispering only the phrase, "Discretion is advised," before pacing away.

Hermione furrowed her brows as she slipped the parchment's bindings off. "Seems we were correct."

She pushed the paper across the table to him, wearing a credulous smirk. Within their assignment instructions rested a filled Restricted Section permission slip holding Severus' signature and no end date.

"Venomous Tentacula and Asphodel," Draco mused as Hermione sifted through their vials. "Rather destructive."

"And useful. Draught of Living Dead... I know precisely who can help us."

"Being?"

"Neville."

"Longbottom?" Draco scoffed. "Are you daft, Granger? How could Longbottom possibly help us?"

"I am not daft, you git!" she snapped, lighting their cauldron and filling it slowly with water from her wand. "Neville has been studying these plants all year. He's bound to know more about them than us."

"He can hardly cast a spell -"

"He's top of the class in Herbology, and you know it."

He muttered a nearly silent, ' _whatever you say_ ,' before pulling out three bushels of Dittany, plucking the leaves. They spent the rest of the class mostly quiet, stirring and plucking, chopping and crushing, lower and raising the fire's temperature, until a simmering purple potion rested within their cauldron.

Severus wandered over as they were bottling with a sharp nod - or in his terms, top marks. He roamed to the opposite side of the table, and his hardened expression fell further.

"It appears the talents of which Professor Slughorn speaks are only occasional," he snarked to Potter before turning and strolling away, fingers laced behind his back.

Draco stood abruptly, starting to fill his bag. "Library, tonight. Meet me outside the Great Hall at 8:00. Try not to overindulge at dinner, Granger."

"Malfoy, we're not done -"

"I'm sure you can manage to bottle of measly Wound-Cleaning Potion," he offered, spinning on the spot and pushing toward the door, her scoff of annoyance ringing in his ears.

"Wait up, Draco! I'll walk with you," Davis beckoned, standing and collecting her things. She hurried to his side as he stepped out the door, laughing randomly. "You know, some girls wouldn't put up with how you speak to Granger."

Draco offered her an indifferent expression as he set a course for the stairs to dinner. "What do I care if Granger dislikes the way I speak to her?"

"Well, as her boyfriend -"

Draco had to stifle the full-body flinch and his dropping jaw. She knew - evident in how confidently she'd spoken her statement. It hadn't been a question, but a statement. A fact. ' _As her boyfriend_ ,' the blonde girl's voice echoed in his mind.

"Ha!" Draco chortled aloud though it felt as if his heart was climbing into his throat. "Are you sure you've got ahold of all of your faculties, Davis? What are you on about?"

She merely grinned, which appeared more knowing than he'd ever seen her expression. "You and Hermione, of course."

"Davis, you've gone mad if you think that I would lower myself by dating a muggle-born."

"You'd also never call one a _muggle-born_ ," Tracey grinned, and Draco felt his heart throb with anxiety anew. "Or ask a muggle-born to meet you outside the Great Hall to walk her to her favorite room. Or -"

"I get it, Davis," he snarled, pulling her aside before the steps to the main floor. "But I can assure you that you're -"

"Wrong? Sure, Draco. But am I, truly?" She let the question linger between then, eyes scanning his features intently until the corners of her lips lifted upward. "I won't tell anyone. Frankly, I think it would be lovely."

And with a quiet, taunting laugh, she turned and ascended the stairs toward the Great Hall, leaving Draco wholly stunned below. She _knew_. Undoubtedly. And it was because of his efforts - the way he showed Hermione he cared. Likely due to the difference in his actions and inactions over the past three months.

Hermione, Potter, and a still red-faced Weasley strolled by at that moment. Her inquisitive, honey-colored eyes met his for a fleeting moment before they disappeared up the stairwell. As the bounce of her curls vanished, panic slowly seeped into his gut. Draco stood rooted to the spot for a moment before deciding to stalk back toward the Slytherin common room, snagging an apple from the tray of fresh fruits and hurrying toward the dorms.

It was dangerous, their connection. Their public friendship. If Davis had noticed, Draco couldn't be sure she was the sole individual who knew. He and Hermione had obviously grown too comfortable, uninhibited in their closeness before others.

And while the day's scenes replayed in his mind, the remnants of his returned arrogance leaving a foul taste on his tongue, he knew precisely what he'd have to do. Even if he desperately wished not to.

He would have to regress into a false performance; back into pretending as if Hermione was beneath him to keep her safe. She'd already suffered so much because of him - torture, the kidnapping of her parents, and the untimely death of her mother. All of it partly because of his actions.

So as the first step for her protection, he'd headed straight to the library rather than the Great Hall before 8:00 p.m., sinking into the table they had often shared the term prior.

" _Malfoy_ ," came her growl nearly fifteen minutes later as she dropped her bag onto the table.

He turned, smirking up to her as Potter and Davis appeared. "How nice of you to join me, Granger."

"We were meant to meet outside the Great Hall," she scowled.

Draco couldn't help but notice the provoking smile on Davis' face as she sat. "I'm sure you're misremembering."

"All three of us couldn't be _misremembering_. We're fifteen minutes late now, so get up and help me find books."

"Not capable of carrying your own books, Granger?"

" _Malfoy_ ," she snarled, slamming her hands on the desk before him, and it rippled another odd sensation down his spine. "We are working on this project _together_ , and you _will_ join me to find texts."

"'Mione, I can -"

"Thank you, Harry," she interrupted, eyes never leaving Draco's. "But _Malfoy_ will be joining me."

She spun then, curls flailing behind her like a mass of fury as he stalked toward the History of Magic section for the nth time in two weeks. Draco's eyes met Davis', who merely bobbed her brows and pursed her lips. He snarled low and rose quickly, walking toward Hermione in a wake of cold air he knew meant danger.

She held three books in her hand, reaching for a fourth just out of her reach as he rounded the stack, shivering slightly. With a deep inhale, he stepped forward, pulling down the book and offering it to her. She snatched it with a grimace, placing it onto her pile and spinning.

" _What_ is your problem today?" She hissed low, scanning the shelves for another, unknown text. Another wave of cold rolled over him, making her annoyance well known. "You're being a total prat! You hardly looked at me all day and then caused a huge, pratty commotion in Potions. And now you're just being an _arse_!"

"Davis knows about us."

She froze for a moment, a concerned glare meeting his. "She what?"

"She _knows_ about _us_ ," he echoed, watching her expression fall into shock. "She knows we're… dating. Or she's suspicious. I'm trying to lead her off-trail, is all. Though, it doesn't seem to be working."

"So, that's why you were a total prat in Potions?"

"Well, no," he chuckled offbase, running a hand to soothe the awkward tension in his neck. "I'm not sure what happened. I felt…"

"Like a prat."

"Yes, Granger, like a prat. I didn't like acting that way, and I left the class immediately wanting to apologize. Which I do, apologize. But she knows, Granger. So, it's good that I acted like an arse…"

But where he thought she'd ramble, or blame him, or merely get angry, she only fell quiet. Pensive. He followed her around for a time, holding books she pulled down from the shelves, trying to read her expression. And when she paused, nestled between the two stacks of their first kiss in the library, he felt his heart jump at the softness in her eyes.

"Would it… be so bad if she knew?"

Merlin, she looked beautiful, her concerned yet hopeful countenance searing into his subconscious.

Did he care if Davis knew? No, of course, he didn't. But she could use the information against them. But would she? He couldn't help but feel she had an angle, as any Slytherin would. She was revealing her hand, even if she claimed she'd hold the information close.

But even if she didn't, would he care? Would he loathe if the information that he and Hermione were a couple rippled through the Hogwarts rumor mill? If everyone knew that he held her close in the night, and in his heart? That he loved her far more than himself and would do anything in his power to protect her? To be with her?

No - he wouldn't. But he also couldn't ensure her safety if it did.

"She'll tell people. Slytherin girls have an inability to keep a secret even if it benefits them..."

"She hasn't spread a rumor yet. If she's been suspicious and confronted you rather than gossiping… maybe she's different?"

"Do you want her to know, Granger?"

She paused for a moment, hand on a book with a furrowed brow of contemplation. "I'd prefer it to you acting as if I'm beneath you again… but you're right... No one should know. It's safer."

She snagged the book from the shelf and added it to her stack, walking past him with her eyes cast downward in a way so reminiscent of years before. When he'd make fun of her about her teeth or hair. Or how many books she read, when though he read the same. Or how filthy she was, when he was just as dirty.

Back when they weren't them.

By the time he made it back to the table, she was already parsing through the pile she'd carried. He strolled forward, placing the additional books on their table before grabbing a random one and handing it in her direction.

"Here, Granger," he said, but his gaze was now locked with Davis'. "You start with this one, and I'll start here. We are working on this _together_ , aren't we?"

Davis smirked, his meaning not missed by the blonde. Potter looked a touch confused, but no more shocked than the express Hermione wore when his gaze landed back on her. Her lips were parted slightly, eyes a bit wide. But her lips slowly lifted into a soft smile as she grabbed the book from his hand, shaking her head and cracking it open.

He winked, dropping into the seat beside her and throwing open a book. The four read, fruitlessly, for the long hours leading up to curfew before Hermione huffed and forced her fifth book away.

"Anything?" Draco questioned.

"Nothing of the artifacts the Founder's left. A thousand years wasn't so long ago, but there's so little information…"

"A thousand years is a long time for bobbles to transfer hands. We'll figure it out."

"You're researching the Founders?" Davis' quiet voice sang across the table.

"Yes, I am," Hermione nodded hesitantly. "For a bit of History of Magic research."

The blonde girl laughed lightly in response. "I don't know how you could have stuck with History of Magic. It's so dull."

"I find it thrilling. I've read many manuscripts of the history of the wizarding world, but having grown up outside of it, History of Magic has a different meaning to me."

Tracey looked a bit sheepish but nodded. "You could simply ask the students from each house about their founders? I'm certain other houses have legends passed down just as Slytherin does."

"Yes... Yes, Tracey, that is a wonderful idea."

"I'm more than a pretty face," Tracey smiled, glancing at Harry, who's cheeks reddened slightly.

"Five minutes," Madam Pince's _Sonorous_ charm echoed through the large chamber.

"I suppose that's it for the night, Granger. It sounds as though our leads may lie outside of books this time," Draco spoke as he rose, collecting their books to return.

By the time he returned, Potter and Davis were gone, but Hermione waited against the table with a contemplative expression. He merely nudged her, offering her a timid smile as he pulled his bag onto his shoulder. They walked in silence to the stairs, only a fleeting glance backward as she ascended to her dorm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, concrit and kudos are always immensely welcome!


	16. What was lost must be found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thanks for hanging in there with me. I've had a rough time overall with my mental health, so I took a break for a bit on pressuring myself to get this story out. I do apologise that it has taken so long, but I hope the bit of gratuitous smut I threw in this chapter makes up for it. ;) Also, I drew a picture of how I envision Hermione to help motivate myself. It is below!
> 
> i would like to thank [ whith96 ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whith96/pseuds/Whith96)for her lovely work as an Alpha for this story! Thank you for your feedback on this chapter.

  


"Sorry, Hermione. We don't know much else. Stories say Rowena kept her Diadem close. The only reason we know what it looks like any longer is the statue in the common room. I can take you to see it again?"

"No. No, that's alright, Cho, thank you. I appreciate everything you've shared, regardless."

"I'll look in the Ravenclaw stacks again," the raven-haired girl offered with an apologetic smile. "But no luck on her diary either. I'm sure Binns will be more than pleased with everything you've found so far."

Hermione merely nodded, striving to repress a sigh as she offered the elder Ravenclaw a falsely cheery smile before turning toward the Gryffindor table. The Great Hall was peaceful this morning, only a few murmurs of first and second year students echoing over the older students' yawns and groans.

Four full weeks of questioning and the only clues she'd turned over about what had so affectionately become known as Ravenclaw's Lost Diadem was what the crown looked like and that it was, in fact, _lost_. She'd planned every interaction meticulously, down to which sixth or seventh year student she'd question on which day, spaced specifically so as not to draw unusual suspicion. Draco and Harry had even taken the mickey out of her for the color-coded schedule she'd drawn up. But she hadn't expected to reach her ultimate day with little to no additional information.

Though the Diadem was challenging to track, Hufflepuff's cup and Slytherin's locket were much more straightforward to trace, especially after Dumbledore's return from unexpected and untimely travel. He'd allowed Hermione and Draco to view all the memories he'd stored of Tom Riddle upon his return. Draco had knocked Harry on the back of the head for withholding such valuable information during Hermione's distress. She'd berated herself for quite a few hours after watching the memories - for forgoing such a crucial source of information for so long, allowing her depression to crowd her rational thought.

The memories made the cup and the locket easier to trace but just as hard to find. Hepzibah Smith, an overly pretentious woman, had flaunted her prized possessions to the wrong wizard. To an undeniably handsome, debonair, quiet yet somehow overtly charming Tom Riddle. The thought had made Hermione sick with hate as she watched on. Hatred only grew when Headmaster Dumbledore informed them that Voldemort butchered Smith and blamed her house-elf as a scapegoat to steal her treasured belongings.

Without a shadow of a doubt, Voldemort controlled the cup and, aptly, Slytherin's locket, and had well before the first war. There had been no doubt amongst the group that he had made them Horcruxes. But the Diadem truly appeared lost to the world. Hermione's hesitance of it even being made a Horcrux had grown each passing day as they researched, turning over fewer and fewer clues as the month had dragged on.

They'd spent countless hours in the library over the past month, scouring through text after text but finding little. No stories of the Diadem had unveiled themselves, and even less so had appeared about Horcruxes and their destruction. It had seemed as if every text that could contain the slightest hint to either had been wiped clean. Some had even been blatantly missing pages, the frayed edges of ripped parchment hurting her heart each time she'd witnessed it.

Though, what they lacked in helpful information, they made up for with companions. What had started as Harry and Tracey sitting opposite them studying had slowly morphed into a sea of red and green, the occasional blue and yellow floating through. Blaise and Ginny had joined them when they weren't off at the Quidditch pitch, as had the three Slytherin girls at which Hermione still found herself somewhat annoyed. Gregory Goyle had even shown one night, expression longing for any form of personal connection as he'd sat merely eating cakes and laughing when anyone told a joke.

The unlikely group had even begun attending Apparition lessons in Hogsmeade together. Hermione hadn't needed the extra instruction, but the soft smile on Draco's face as Tracey urged her to attend had been all the convincing she'd needed. It was odd, many onlookers tendering confused expressions mixed with contempt. But Hermione didn't care. It was… nice, pleasant to see a modicum of respect between groups of people who had once despised one another. Hopeful.

Though, there was one person she wished would move past his hatred.

Hermione sank onto the Gryffindor bench across from the redhead she hoped would see reason, next to his sister, dropping her school bag onto the table with a thud. Harry's startled, early-morning gaze sought hers with a question, and she merely rocked her head with a sigh.

"What's the matter?" Ron bit out from beside Harry, an irritated tone in his voice that had steadily grown more apparent since returning from the Christmas holiday.

"Nothing, Ron. I'm fine. Just a-"

"Bit of a headache?" He snarled, echoing her consistent excuse over the early morning murmurs.

Unrest was painting on his face, and Hermione had to concede that Ron was cleverer than he let on. He'd spent a wealth of time with Lavender over the last few weeks, but his concerned and indignant gaze had sought Hermione and Harry more than once. She hated keeping him out of their consciousness circle, but Dumbledore had been explicit in his command to keep their mission concealed.

When no one responded, Ron slammed his fist on the table, startling everyone in their vicinity of the Great Hall. "Tell me what's going on!"

Ginny raised her fork at her brother with a grimace highly reminiscent of her mother's. "Lower your voice, Ron."

"What's going on? You two," he hissed, pointing between Hermione and Harry, "keep disappearing, and no one is telling me a thing!"

"We've all been busy, mate," Harry chimed in. "You and Ginny are busy with Quidditch and -"

"You two are busy with _Slytherins_ in the library." His voice rose with every word he spoke. "A month! You've ignored me all year, and I've hardly seen you in a month!"

"Mate, we're not -"

"Piss off, Harry," Ron snarled loudly, shrugging off the hand that Harry tried to set on his shoulder. "If I didn't know that Hermione was _slagging_ around with that Slytherin _arsehole_ Zabini, I'd think you two were shagging!"

An echo of gasps rang out from more than just the Gryffindor table, and at more than just Ron's raised voice. Hermione could feel the gaze of dozens of eyes on her as her anger ballooned. But not as drastically as the loud, angry exhales that echoed from beside her.

"Ronald Weasley!" Ginny shouted, but it sounded as if Molly Weasley herself was sitting beside Hermione.

"No! Don't Ronald Weasley me!" Ron roared, slamming a fist onto the table anew with a face so red it nearly matched his tie. A silence fell over the students around them.

"Ron! It's -"

Ginny rose to her feet so suddenly that her hair resembled a red blur in Hermione's peripheral. The splash of pumpkin juice across Ron's face was quick and took the entire Great Hall by surprise. His eyes opened wide in evident confusion, mouth gaping as he gawked at his own sister.

"You've no right to talk to Hermione like that when you've whored around all year with Brown and treated her like Flobberworm scum!" Ginny shouted, the entire Great Hall now silent and staring at the warring siblings. "And for your information - she's not dating Blaise, _I_ am!"

A few loud gasps echoed from the far side of the room as Ginny tossed her goblet to the table and stormed out with a huff. A soft scraping drew countless eyes toward where Blaise stood, a somewhat bewildered look on his face as he grabbed his bag and raced toward the door. But Hermione could see it - the happiness in the corners of his eyes and the slight upturn of his lips.

Hermione's sights flashed briefly to the pale blond hair that remained beside Blaise's abandoned seat. Distaste scrunched Draco's nose into a snarl, and if Hermione could see correctly, his fingernails were piercing the skin of his green apple, eyes glaring directly at the back of Ron's head. He glanced at her for scantily long enough for her to shake her head before he stood conspicuously, grabbed his school bag, and headed for the Great Hall doors.

Ron sputtered, drawing Hermione's angry yet somewhat understanding gaze back to his gradually slumping expression. He blinked for a moment before scowling and spreading a hand down his face to clear away the sticky wetness. He stood and charged from the Great Hall with an embarrassed, angry grunt, not looking back at her and Harry.

Hermione's gaze remained where Ronald disappeared as Harry's hand fell onto hers, his voice soft. "'Mione -"

"It's fine, Harry…" she sighed, glancing back toward him and grasped his hand once before withdrawing hers. "He's… I'm sure he's feeling left out. We've not included him much this year. Though, it gives him _no_ right to speak to me in such a manner."

Harry nodded. "Anything from Ravenclaw?"

"Nothing. I've asked every sixth and seventh year, and all anyone knows is that a Diadem was Rowena's choice bequeathment to Hogwarts because it is on her statue and that it was lost centuries ago."

"What of the unabridged version of Hogwarts, a History in the library?"

"We checked it," Hermione murmured. "Nothing. It appears the Founders objects were merely a footnote for Bagshot."

Suddenly, a flash of blonde sank onto the bench beside Harry, Luna Lovegood's dreamy expression glued to her upside down Quibbler. She sat humming quietly, legs slowly shifting into a swing, wafting a breeze underneath the table.

Harry quirked an eyebrow to Hermione, who merely shrugged with a soft laugh. Turning toward his starry-eyed friend, Harry offered, "... Good morning, Luna?"

"Hello, Harry."

"You are at the Gryffindor table again -"

"As was my intention," Luna pronounced, closing her Quibbler and setting it softly on a portion of the table not currently soaked with pumpkin juice. "Harry, I hear you are in search of Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem."

Hermione gawked a bit, startled at the knowledge Luna always seemed to deduce. "What? How -"

"The Grey Lady."

"Who?" Harry questioned.

"The ghost of Ravenclaw tower, Harry. Honestly, don't you read?" Hermione scoffed lightly. "Of course, she may know, but -"

"She knows more than you would think, Hermione," Luna interrupted smoothly. "She would be invaluable in your search should you seek her out."

"But she doesn't speak, Lu -"

"She does, quite a lot," the dreamy-eyed girl butted in once more over Hermione's negativity, stare never breaking Harry's. "I speak to her more than any other being in the castle. She has countless tales to tell. However, she chooses to do so only with Ravenclaw students. She's quite handy at finding misplaced items, as well. She's looking for my Specterspecs as we speak.

Whatever you seek with the Diadem, I'm sure you cannot share. Regardless, she is likely your best path forward."

Luna stood then, sliding her Quibbler back into her hands. "I do suggest you visit her in the evening. She is known to be much crackier in the morning time. Have a good day."

Hermione and Harry both watched her leave, skipping toward the Great Hall doors without any shoes.

"I suppose we should look into it. Luna is rarely wrong," Harry added with a soft smile, eyes lingering on the entryway doors well after Luna had disappeared.

Hermione snickered lightly. "We can discuss it tonight."

"Tonight?" Harry queried, glancing back at Hermione quizzically. "Are you not busy?"

"Why would I be?"

"It's… nevermind, I suppose."

"Let's just head to class, Harry. I'm tired of people staring. All they've done this year is stare."

"Sure, 'Mione, let's go."

Hermione flicked her wand to clear the pumpkin juice from the table, shouldered her bag, and laced her arm through Harry's, who led them toward the entryway. They wandered toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, and although she searched, she didn't see a trace of Draco, Blaise, Ginny, or Ron along the way. Ron didn't even show for class, nor lunch afterward, much to everyone's notice. It wasn't until Ron wandered in beside Neville for Herbology that Hermione saw him again. He still wore a scowl, but it was softer, a touch more imploring. He nodded to her and Harry but dragged Neville to a seat along the greenhouse's wall, much to Hermione's dismay.

Yes, she wanted to speak to Ron, but she also needed to chat with Neville. The Asphodel was meant to be pruned this week, and she had Draco had researched as much as possible for their Potions assignment without practical application. Why Snape had assigned them ingredients that didn't bloom until late winter and early Spring was beyond her, though she assumed that was the purpose of their assignment: new, novel applications of potion ingredients.

Class dragged on slowly; everyone focused on their drawings of Fluxweed until Professor Sprout's seventh year teaching assistant dismissed them. Neville and Ron were out of the greenhouse doors before Hermione could stuff everything into her bag, though she hurried Harry along to try to catch them. She trailed them a bit before a flash of pale blond hair, toned by the slowly setting sun, appeared on the horizon.

"Oi! Longbottom!" Draco's voice boomed, Hermione's gaze shifting to see him sauntering down the sloping hill with a long-gone pretense of superiority that made her chuckle.

Neville paused mid-stride, head swiveling toward Draco with a puzzled look. He shrugged Ron off when he tried to pull him along, the redhead's face again going crimson before storming off, shouldering past Draco with a small scuffle. Poor Ronald. Hermione pulled Harry ahead, coming alongside Neville with a pleased yet somewhat false grin.

"Hi, Neville! I'm sorry I missed you before class. Would you mind chatting with Malfoy and me for a moment?"

"Sure, Hermione," Neville started, a confidence in his voice that only recently revealed itself. "But -"

"When will the bloody Tentacula be ready for harvest?" Draco challenged with an annoyed tone as he sauntered to the spot beside Hermione.

"I told you already, Malfoy," Neville scowled. "They don't mature until the Spring. So you'll have to wait another month or so."

"Can't you use any charm to make them grow faster? Or are you-"

Hermione jabbed Draco in the side with an elbow and shot him an exasperated glare. "Sorry, Neville. Malfoy," she annunciated with authentic annoyance, "is just upset Snape gave us an assignment that requires us to wait. Is the Asphodel still meant to be harvested this week?"

"I'm off to Professor Sprout's office to help with that now," Neville affirmed. "I'll have some for you later tonight."

"We appreciate your help."

"Yeah… of course, Hermione. Anything for you," Neville responded, an actual sneer on his lips as he watched Draco grab his side. "Well, I've got to go."

"Of course, of course, Neville. I'll see you back in the common room tonight," Hermione replied before hugging Neville in parting.

He walked away without a backward glance, though he did hold his shoulders higher than she'd seen them years prior. His new wand and vigor for Herbology had undoubtedly made him a more confident wizard. Harry's hand fell to her back a moment later, guiding her toward the castle and into a quiet nook away from prying eyes.

"You'll see him in the common room tonight, Granger?" Draco sought as he strolled into the alcove in which Harry had guided her.

"Yes?" She questioned in response, but Draco merely knitted his eyebrows. "Anyways… we learned some new information after everything that happened at breakfast. We need to discuss. Harry's going to join us in the Room tonight so that we can strategize. Let's meet at, say, eight o'clock? After dinner?"

"Right, uh -" Harry stammered, his expression falling slightly as he glanced toward Draco, though the blond held no oddities in his character when Hermione glanced his way. "Actually, 'Mione, I'm going to spend the evening with Ron in the common room. Try to calm him down a bit…"

"Oh..." Hermione mused. "That's a good idea, Harry! Maybe I'll join you, and we can -"

"No!" Harry and Draco both let out loudly before Harry continued, "Uh, it might be better if I just go by myself tonight."

"Are you sure?"

"He said as much, Granger," Draco added hurriedly. "We should go quickly so that we don't look odd. Let's you and I go to the Room to discuss."

"Look odd? Draco, people see us together all -"

"Let's just go," he growled over her, withdrawing Harry's Invisibility Cloak from his bag and draping it over his shoulders - strange because Harry had commandeered it several nights back to sneak about the castle, reason unknown.

He held it open for her to step into, but Hermione let her gaze shift between the two wizards. Harry's puzzled appearance wasn't unusual, but the apparent nervousness etched on Draco's expression was. Harry merely shrugged, offering a quiet goodbye as he passed out of the alcove. She lingered where she stood, head rotating between Harry's departed spot and Draco's nearly floating head. He huffed annoyedly and grabbed her wrist, spinning her to press her back against his chest with a soft growl. He hunched over her shoulder, throwing the cloak over them and sealing her in with a scent he'd not worn in months.

Sandalwood and citrus nearly overpowered her as he wrapped an arm about her waist, guiding her out of the alcove and toward the stairs. Going on about people seeing them was asinine if he had the cloak, she thought with a roll of her eyes. Though, Hermione supposed there needed actually to be people for them to be seen. The hallways were relatively deserted on the way to the seventh floor, also strange.

Draco paused them for a moment, checking around to ensure the corridor was vacant before walking thrice before the tapestry. And to say Hermione was short of breath as they stepped into the Room of Requirement was an understatement. She tried to take in everything as Draco removed the cloak from their shoulders but kept his arm firmly encircled about her waist.

Fire lit the room's hearth, a low blaze giving off hardly enough heat to be comfortable - just the way she liked it. A black tablecloth had transformed their tiny table, two large candlesticks sitting in the middle, casting a soft illumination over more food than two people could consume. Twinkling fairy lights overhead shed light over new drapery on both of the windows and the bed, an infrequent guest in their space.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she turned, a confused expression meeting his soft, subtle smile.

"Draco…"

"I'm not sure if you realized," he started, bringing a hand to her cheek. "I'm fairly certain you didn't - but it is Valentine's Day. I know it's probably not the most opportune time to, well... _woo_ you -"

"No, we do need to talk -"

"Not tonight, Hermione," Draco whispered, setting a soft finger on her lip, but it was the choice of her given name that caused her resolve to falter. "Tonight, we need a break. _You_ need a break."

She wanted to retort, to fight back his meaning, but the pleading look on his face as his finger softly trembled on her lips made only her head nod in response. "How did you even man... Dobby."

"Yes, he helped," Draco chuckled, running a finger over her cheek before slowly removing himself, setting a hand on her lower back to urge her forward. "He even refused to allow me to select our meal, so I can't promise anything good."

"It smells delicious," Hermione smiled, sinking into that chair he pulled out for her. "I can't believe this, Draco. This is… wonderful. How could I have missed the date?"

Draco laughed, dropping into the seat across from her and flicked his wand to serve their dinner - shepherd's pie.

"And the flowers? Students visibly gifting chocolates to one another, the endless snogging in the hallways, and girlish squeals all day? I'm not sure how, either," Draco laughed again. "Though, it does make surprising you much easier."

Hermione let his laughter linger in the air as they tucked into their meal. Dobby had truly outdone himself, but not more than the budding young man sitting across from her. Draco's soft smile and enamored expression made it difficult to swallow. The word hadn't floated through her mind before, but staring at him now, listening to him talk of books that didn't pertain to Horcruxes and Diadems, a flutter of emotion welled deep inside her heart.

 _Love_.

How could someone fall in love amidst such a disastrous time? She supposed it was inevitable, given whatever bond they shared. A bond she still wished she had time to research properly because how could she know if the feeling slowly overtaking all thoughts in her mind were her own? Could an ancient connection, a connection established well before their births, be the only reason she loved a boy who, at one point, she thought she could only ever despise? Or were the feelings welling inside her, her own?

Their dinner lasted well beyond when darkness enveloped the sky outside their towering window, conversation flowing slowly but comfortably. It was testing to find... safe things to talk about, but it was apparent Draco was trying his damnedest to keep Hermione's mind solely focused on the moment between them.

Soft moonlight from the half-full moon floated through the window, mixing with the delicately painted hues from the low fire. The illumination outlined her partner as he placed down his napkin an hour after both had lowered their forks, stood, and offered her an outstretched hand. How could he still make her feel so bashful? He was just Draco Malfoy, a lost boy who was slowly finding a path of lightness through a darkened past.

But tonight, he was Draco Malfoy, her soulmate. The man that fate, though she generally spat at the word, had appointed as the person meant to keep her eternal self company. Still in some disbelief, she smiled, standing and sliding her hand along his. A jolt of electricity that she hadn't felt in some time shot across her skin, making her gasp softly. The slow widening of his eyes meant he felt the same. The past month, their meager touches had done little to soothe her distress and to ease her aching mind. Perhaps their bond had settled, or maybe the stress of war had outweighed the comfort of his touch.

But tonight, her heart hammered as her shoulders sagged, tension slipping from her frame as they ambled toward their couch.  
She sat, but he stood for a moment longer, bending to pull a somewhat large box from underneath the sofa.

Hermione smiled but shook her head. "Draco… you didn't have to get me anything. I feel awful. I didn't -"

"I assumed you hadn't," he chuckled with a soft smile, sitting down beside her and sliding the box into her lap. "You didn't even know it was Valentine's Day. However, Mother got you these robes for Christmas and wanted to ensure you received them. I… well, it didn't feel right to give them to you at that time."

Hermione paused at the softness of his voice, begging herself not to cry as she nodded. "Thank you… that was very thoughtful of you, of her. Perhaps it's time I opened the gifts I received. I'll add this one to that pile."

"I hope you don't mind that I didn't get -"

Hermione turned toward him with a determined yet effortless and appreciative countenance. "You did so much by putting this wonderful evening together. You didn't need to -"

"Correct, I didn't need to. I wanted to," Draco smiled lopsidedly, holding out his hand to her.

Nervousness bubbled in Hermione's gut as she eyed his fire lit fingers, but she let instinct take over. Allowed the emotion that had swirled so confusing in her psyche tonight to lead her way. Inhaling deeply, Hermione moved, straddling her legs over Draco's lap, much to his surprise. She leaned in quickly, the astonishment slipping from his face as their lips met in slow, chaste kisses. The warmth of Draco's hands as they cupped her hips, pulling her down, was electric.

"Sex on Valentine's Day," he murmured against her lips with a husky chuckle that rippled want down her spine. "How cliche."

Hermione kissed him once, slowly, teasingly, then hovered her lips just close enough to brush against his as she spoke, whispering, "Only if you want it to be."

His movements were sudden, a hand threading through curls that had longed for his grasp. The gentle yet demanding pressure against Hermione's scalp as he pulled her mouth back to his made her whimper. They hadn't been this close, alone, in months - not like this. Not with the heat of his hands drawing her closer as their tongues swirled. Not as whimpers of need, his and hers, sounded over the low-rolling fire as she circled her hips against his stiffening manhood. Not as he desperately grasped her arse and lifted her effortlessly, carrying her toward their red-draped bed.

Draco dropped her unceremoniously onto the mattress, eyes scanning up her figure until they locked with hers with a wink. It was always a shock to see his chest, her sights glued to the pale torso as he divested his vest and shirt. Scars, countless, peppered his skin from where Harry had nearly succeeded in killing him. A grey smattering of flesh on his left forearm was barely visible now in the soft light, a nearly-vanished reminder of a life once expected.

Though, her most favorite adornment of all - a dark rune emblazoned on his chest, a mirror image of the one that lightened her bosom. Draco crawled over her, sliding a hand underneath her jumper with a soft caress that made her heart hammer harder. Hermione bit her lip softly as he hovered scarcely above, held on one forearm with a nervousness she felt echoed on his face.

They weren't well-practiced in this, both a bit hesitant to move should they spook the other. Nevertheless, Hermione giggled shyly, gliding her fingers along his chest. He shivered, the hairs on her arms standing straight as her fingers ran over his pecks, tracing the line of his rune with care. It felt warm like it had that Samhain night so many months back. On the night that they'd become whatever it was that they were.

Draco smirked softly, raising and pulling Hermione along with him. She laughed, his mirth joining as her mass of curls plopped rambunctiously from the hole of her jumper. Their kisses were gentle, passionate, yet playful, as he ran a hand softly around her back, unclasping her bra and pulling it off her shoulders slowly. Her body's reaction was quick. She could feel the slickness between her folds at just his careful kisses.

He lowered her back to the mattress, tender kisses peppering down her jaw and chest until his lips connected with the lightened rune on her chest. It felt like utter bliss exploded through her body, fire exploding from her head to her toes, hairs on the back of her neck standing straight as her quivering fingers threaded through his hair. She scarcely registered as he lifted her, even less as he removed the rest of their clothing, opening her thighs.

But the look on his face as he sat back on his knees, gazing at her as she tried to shield her core was unmissable. His hands slid slowly up her knees, cupping them as he drew them apart. A shaking inhale led his hands toward her center, pausing only briefly to seek her nod of consent.

She flinched softly with a muffled giggle as his lips connected with her thigh, bouncing between them with a grin. They'd done this once before, on the night of their first coupling, but she still felt bashful. Though, when his lips kissed the top of her slit, the tease of his wet tongue sliding between them, she couldn't help but moan, bucking slightly.

Her fingers tingled with anticipation, fisting in the fabric of their bed, as he flicked his tongue against her clit. Once, twice, and then his mouth found its home, tongue swirling around her sensitive nub in concise strokes. She wanted to call his name, to plead as a pleasure bubbled deep inside her, but she could only manage a whimper or a moan when her lips parted.

He worked her clit with an expertise that left her breathless and quivering. Though, it didn't stop her cry of bliss as one of his fingers slid through the dampness of her cunt, coating it before it slowly, titillatingly, slipped inside. His digit worked in tandem with his tongue, curling just so to make her toes crunch. And when he removed it, her whimper died into a raucous moan as two thrusts back in.

Draco praised her femininity, right up until he thrust her off the edge of bliss into unimaginable oblivion. His name fell like a mantra from her lips as his fingers curled and thrust. As his tongue swirled, and his teeth nibbled. It was as brief as it was pleasurable, but nothing compared to the weight of his figure against hers as he shifted atop her, aligning their centers.

Hermione winched only slightly as the tip of Draco's manhood slid into her still spasming slit. He was careful, brows knitted as he held himself back, rocking in and out, gently, until their cores kissed. Draco leaned in, forehead pressing to hers as she adjusted to their togetherness, to her welcome fullness. He moved slowly at first, chest falling against hers as their bodies worked in a tantalizing tandem, lips caressing the sensitive skin of her collarbone as his thrusts deepened.

Their movements were better than she remembered. Frantic, yes. Urgent, yes. A tangled mass of limbs and kisses and unbending want. But also emotional. Tender. Passionate, heated, heavy. Purely magnificent.

It didn't last long, but it hadn't needed to. Hermione's second release came quickly, unintelligible cries of Draco's name parting her moans. Fingers scratched and grabbed whatever they could find to hold as her world exploded. His groan of release sang seconds after her cry of bliss. Taut toes jutted toward the ceiling, his grasp on her crushing as their worlds shattered, melding together in a swirl of unmitigated lust and unbridled love.

Their breaths were heavy as their bodies slowly relaxed, though Hermione clutched him close until their chests rose in leisurely tandem. Draco leaned up, gazing down at her with an adoration only he'd ever managed. He ran his finger over her eye and down her cheek, pulling her lower lip down softly before leaning in to kiss her affectionately.

They didn't speak a word as he rolled to her side and pulled her into his chest. Though she should have been satisfied and satiated, Hermione could feel a swell of sadness that furrowed her brows. It wasn't him, or what they'd done, but more the free time her mind had to focus on her long-past torture, the scar he'd just caressed, the tragedy of their parents, and everything still left to come. He said nothing but ran soothing hands down her unruly curls as she cried herself to sleep.

* * *

"I'm bloody tired of smelling you under this cloak."

"As if your breath smells of flowers," Draco's companion whispered with an acidic sting.

"It's been a month, Potter!" Draco hissed. "Why must we hide under this damned carpet anyway? People see us together all the time!"

"So professors don't catch us! There are no alcoves here!"

"The bloody ghost hasn't shown once when we're waiting for her. Why-"

"We have to trust Luna, Malfoy," Potter growled. "I haven't seen you provide any better ideas."

Draco scoffed but dropped the matter, hoping Hermione would wander around the corner sometime soon. Tonight wasn't the first time he'd been snuggled against Potter's back, hovering over his shoulder under his ratty cloak, knees slightly bent so the fabric would drag the ground and not expose them. But Merlin did Draco hope it would be the last. It surely held no torch to the moments he and Hermione had shared under this thick sheet of fabric.

Though, he knew these nights huddled against Potter's back were more important in the grand scheme of things.

Valentine's Day had been both a saving grace and a sort of bane. Draco had seen the hesitation in Hermione's face throughout their evening, whirled with gratitude and comfort as their night progressed. Their love-making had been unexpected, but the tears she'd shed nestled in his arms hadn't. She seldom allowed herself a break or a moment to feel. He hadn't meant for her to cry that night, but it had done her a world of good.

The day following, Potter had joined them early to discuss a new plan. Hermione had seemed sober yet invigorated as she and the raven-haired wizard explained that Loony Lovegood, of all people, had instructed them to seek out The Grey Lady. While her sadness still lingered in the back of Draco's mind, he had to hand it to himself that making her relax for a night had done a lot of good. Though it had made his case of the validity of not only Lovegood's suggestion but her sanity, too, much more challenging to debate. Hermione was in peak form, retorts factual and even a touch scathing until Draco had ultimately relented.

So, naturally, they'd been stalking the halls of Hogwarts together on the nights of Hermione's rounds for several weeks, visiting Ravenclaw Tower late into the evening. The ghost of the watchtower had yet to show on their biweekly traipses through the tower's lower floor, but she had appeared throughout the daytime. Though, always at a moment when he, Hermione, and Potter had been elsewhere occupied. As if she'd known they sought her out with importance - Draco assumed she did.

They'd continued to research as the spirit evaded them, though it helped little. They read and searched, reviewed memories, and theorized with Dumbledore, but found little else to lead them in the direction of the Diadem's location. Apparition lessons continued in Hogsmeade, though both Draco and Hermione needed no further instruction. But he had to admit the hour a week huddled in a group of people that should, by all accounts, hate one another felt... Freeing.

A soft, faint reverberation of footstep echoed from the end of the corridor before Hermione finally appeared around the corner. She wore an apologetic look on her face, striding with purpose by where Draco and Potter stood. She didn't stop to greet them, merely breezed past toward the moonlit corridor beyond. Potter pushed forward, drawing Draco closely behind.

But the raven-haired wizard stopped mid-stride just inside the doorway, Draco colliding with his back and nearly toppling over the two frozen figures before him.

"Potter, what the -"

But Draco's statement hung in his throat as he glanced up through the glossy sheen of the Invisibility Cloak. Floating unassumingly in the stone rafters was The Grey Lady. Nearly five full weeks of sitting in his damp corridor for all hours of the night with Hermione and Potter, and _now_ she chose to make an appearance? Although he was thrilled and apprehensive to see the spirit, he also wanted to scream.

"You're later than usual," the woman's ghostly voice echoed around the chamber as she floated lower, glimmering through the moon rays.

The soft clearing of Hermione's throat lingered for a moment before she asked, "La - late?"

"Remove the cloak, boys," the ghost commanded, ignoring Hermione's question. Potter obliged, opening the cloak to slide it off their shoulders.

Hermione didn't glance back, but her shoulders stiffened slightly as she took a small step forward, head cocked upward to watch the ghost float. Draco stepped to her side, falling in line on her right as Potter filled her left.

"You've been watching us," Hermione stated matter-of-factly.

"Ghosts have little to keep their minds fresh," The Grey Lady responded as she drifted in the pattern of an eight throughout the stone, freezing rafters. "Pupils are rather intriguing. The three of you amongst the most."

"Why would you find us so fascinating?" Draco sought.

"Two boys who were at once mortal enemies now hide together under scraps of fabric. A girl and a boy who once hated one another, frequently hexed or harmed one another, now share a bed," the apparition pronounced without a hint of enthusiasm.

Potter nearly choked on the ghost's words, and Draco glanced down at Hermione, who's face was slowly reddening. It looked as though Potter was going to say something, but Hermione shook her head imperceptibly and stepped forward, clearly trying to overcome embarrassment. An awkwardness that was rather adorable but not an emotion Draco shared.

Hermione cleared her throat again. "That doesn't answer why you find us so entertaining."

"I know what you seek," The Grey Lady declared, and it was clear all three students had heard the venom in her tone. "I know why you've come here so regularly. Too regularly."

"We simply seek your assistance finding -"

"You will find nothing!" The specter shouted suddenly, interrupting Hermione as the soft expression she'd been wearing turned to one of terror in the blink of an eye. She dashed with a quickness through the air, circling them before sliding up to Draco's side like some sort of animal sizing up its prey.

"You, boy," she began with a hiss in Draco's ear. He swatted at her, trying not to flinch as she passed through him, whirling quickly to hover before them. "I know what depraved things you would do with the Diadem. The darkness within it would corrupt you. I've seen the blackness in your heart. I've seen the horrors you have brought and those you intended."

Anger flared in Draco's gut as he took a step forward. Who did this spirit believe she was? He wasn't the same boy he'd been throughout most of his lifetime. He'd left that boy long ago. He'd left him the moment The Dark Lord wandered through his Manor doors, when he was forced to become a man. Ditched him the moment the white-hot wand of a maniac had seared into the sensitive flesh of his forearm.

But before he could growl louder than a rumble, Hermione's hand reached out for his, trying to tug him backward. He let the feeling of calmness she offered washed over him, speaking only, "You have no idea who I am or what I wish of the Diadem."

"I know you better than you believe, child," the ghost scoffed, and Draco heard the indignation in her voice. "For example, I know your _soulmate_ , the brightest of her class, would destroy herself with Ravenclaw's treasure." The ghost's eyes trained on Hermione with a quickness, a mixture of pity and resentment filling her expression. "You, girl, seek the Diadem for your selfish use. I have seen the look on your face as you read of it. How you yearn for unending wit."

"No. No, that's not true," Hermione affirmed with a shake of her head.

"Deny all you wish, but your emotions tell otherwise."

"None of us-" Potter started, but the ghost bolted with swiftness to his front, meeting him face to face.

"And you," she seethed with seriousness. "You remind me so much of _him_. I know what you would do with the Diadem. You would defile it. Shred any last piece of dignity that he left it with. Desecrate it."

"No," Potter stated resolutely, a stone-faced expression and a fervent look in his eye that even Draco could see. He stepped forward only one, the ghost relentingly lightly with a scoff. "We don't want the Diadem for what it can give us. I don't want it. I want to _destroy_ it."

"You are hardly the first students to covet my mother's diadem."

Hermione's gasp echoed throughout the chamber, and audible depiction of her, Potter, and Draco's emotions. "Your - your mother? Of course… Of course! You're Helena Ravenclaw!"

The ghost of Rowena Ravenclaw's daughter merely sneered, nodding her head once.

"Then you must know what happened to it!" Potter said suddenly.

"I stole the diadem."

"You stole it?"

"I sought to make myself wiser than my mother," Helena began, answering Hermione's question. "I ran away with it. They say she acted as though I had not betrayed her, concealing the disdain she shared so freely in her letters to me. She feigned as though she had the Diadem on her person. But then she fell ill and wished desperately to see me once again. She sent a man who had long loved me to fetch me."

She paused for a long moment, eyes glazed with a sheen of remembrance.

"He found me, within the forest I had made my home. I refused him, and the Baron grew violent. I suppose in his jealousy and scorn he knew not else to do - so he stabbed me."

"The Baron. You mean -"

"The Bloody Baron, yes. He killed himself in his grief, and I've had to suffer centuries of sharing the same halls as him."

"The diadem?" Draco sought.

The Grey Lady's face, full of disdain, targeted him. "It remained where I hid it, concealed within a hollowed trunk of a tree in the forests of Albania, for centuries."

"Albania?" Potter chimed on. "How are we to get to Albania?"

"You've told this story to someone else before, haven't you?" Hermione questioned with a softness in her tone, taking a single step forward.

Helena looked remorseful, features falling. "He was… he was very flattering, sympathetic. I… I hadn't an idea who he was.

He brought it back once, many years ago. That was when I knew a ghost's heart could break. Seeing the Diadem, defiled, in his hands. Corrupting my mother's legacy... I couldn't reconcile what I had done."

Both Draco and Potter made to respond, but Hermione halted them, questioning, "He brought it back here?"

"Yes, clutched in his cold hands."

"Do you know where he took it?"

"He walked up the stairs and vanished. When he reappeared, sauntering down the stairs so smugly I wished I could tear the look from his face, it was gone. He no longer held it. I wanted to weep that day," Helena said, a well-worn frown on her lips that Draco knew was worn only by those foolish enough to believe The Dark Lord.

Hermione stepped forward again, voice soft as she offered, "You were not the first person that... monster convinced to share secrets, Helena. He has a tongue smoother than glass. But any information you can share with us will help immensely. Do you know where he left the Diadem?"

"I do not. As I said, when he reappeared on the staircase, my mother's Diadem was no longer within his grasp. I regret I cannot be of help..."

"So it's lost…" Draco muttered.

Hermione breathed, and Draco saw her shoulders sink slowly. "Thank you, Helena. What you've shared here -"

"I know where it is!" Potter blurted, Hermione's head whipping around at the passionate outburst.

"When you saw him, it must have been when he interviewed for the job!"

Both Helena and Hermione wore confused expressions, the living woman questioning, "But where?"

"The only place you can leave something in the castle where no one could find it - The Room of Hidden Things! Where I hid the Potions textbook!" Potter exclaimed rather excitedly, fumbling with the cloak, but Draco's breath caught in his throat. "Thank you, Helena. Thank you. You've done more for us than you could ever imagine!"

No one looked more confused than the apparition as Harry stepped back into Draco, chucking the cloak around their shoulders, hiding them from outside eyes. "Hermione, Barnabas the Barmy. We'll follow you."

Hermione's face was a mixture of confusion, intrigue, and astonishment. She wasted little time with questions before thanking Helena again with a soft bow of her head and rushing from the corridor. Hunching over an overly eager Potter, hardly able to breathe, as the three raced through the castle wasn't the simplest of tasks. Nor was pacing thrice before a wall Draco knew much too intimately.

But it paled in comparison to seeing a set of doors he wished never to see again - the Room of Hidden Things. He hadn't cared to know the room's name before, but the thick wood of the double doors pulled forward memories of sobbing alone on a frozen, stone floor before the Vanishing Cabinet. Recollections of long nights spent before an obvious disaster, wishing life could be different. Wishing anything could change his past and his future.

But he didn't have a moment to hesitate before Hermione pushed open the doors, and Potter stepped forward, dragging him through a doorway that once meant death. Potter ripped the cloak from their shoulders as soon as the doors slammed shut, and Draco tried to breathe in the stale, musty air. But his breathing came in short bursts, catching in his throat as his shoulders shook. He couldn't seem to fill his lungs with enough live-saving substance, and his vision slowly faded as he watched his hands tremble.

He could hear Potter's voice in the distance, but the wizard hadn't moved. His feet were still firmly planted in Draco's slowly narrowing vision, but he sounded miles away. Suddenly a flash of tawny skin invaded his sights, two cold yet reassuring hands pressing to what he assumed were his cheeks.

Hermione.

His chin lifted upward, drawing his clouded eyes to a vision of pure goodness. To a picture of the only thing that made his current life feel like it was worth enduring. She was muttering something, possibly his name, but he couldn't hear her. He could only see the worried and pleading look on her face as a soothing calm started to work up his frame from his toes. Slowly her voice began to register as the blackened edges of his vision renewed.

"It's okay, Draco," she affirmed like a mantra. "We're here. Breathe. You can do this. Just breathe through it."

His hands shook as he raised them to hers, holding her palms imploringly against his cheeks as his breathing slowed. "Granger, I don't..."

"It's okay. I'm here..." Hermione said softly as she came fully back into view. "A panic attack. But I've got you. Just breathe."

He tried to speak, but his words caught in his throat. Draco focused on the soft strokes of Hermione's thumbs over his cheeks, gradually focusing on the effortless expression on her face. Calmness crept into his psyche as his vision fully reanimated, inhalation slowly pacifying.

"You're okay, Draco. I've got you. I'm here," Hermione continued to murmur as Draco nodded.

"I'm fine... I'm fine," he affirmed almost silently as Hermione's hands fell away.

"Why don't we split up," Potter offered after the three lingered in silence for several minutes, Draco's heart rate gradually lowering. "I'll take the left side."

"That's a good idea, Harry. I'll go this way," Hermione responded, pointing over her shoulder to the right. "Draco, can you check the center passage? If we split, we can get out of here sooner."

Draco merely stared down the long, winding mountain of discarded items before him, nodding. "...Yes."

"Shoot flares or shout if you see anything," Hermione commanded. "You both remember what the Diadem looks like, correct?"

Draco and Potter both nodded in confirmation before the raven-haired wizard ducked between the two mountains of mostly debris on the left and disappeared. Hermione lingered with a touch of hesitation, but Draco merely nodded his head for her to start her search. She glanced back once before turning the corner around a pile of broken and shabby furniture and vanishing, as well. The silence of she and Potter's absence was deafening for a moment, Draco's heartbeat slowly rising again as he glanced down the darkness of the center pathway.

He took a moment to calm himself, wiping the sweat from his brow and palms, the clammy sheen laying over his skin somewhat sickening. Pushing forward, his head swiveled to scan the cliffs of rubbish, but he found nothing but broken vials, torn parchment, and forgotten treasures. He could feel the darkness slowly enveloping him as he wandered, hoping that a gleaming or tarnished Diadem would appear before the worn wood of the Vanishing Cabinet. He trekked for a time, avoiding an area he knew all too well, but it didn't seem to help. The Room of Hidden Things had an agenda, it appeared.

A familiar creaking of wood echoed over the soft breezes that somehow pervaded the air. A reverberation that undulated extra anxiety into Draco's gut. He turned slowly, panting deeply as his eyes settled onto the Vanishing Cabinet he'd hoped had simply disappeared in his absence.

But it hadn't. It still loomed tall, an ominous aura still radiating from every divot in the worn wood. Draco felt his chest constrict again, a tightness in his throat that threatened to choke him just as The Dark Lord had so many times before. But where he thought he would feel sadness and shame, he found himself overwhelmed at the visceral reaction stinging at the tips of his fingers and the corners of his eyes.

"Draco..." Hermione's voice filled the silence of his slowly crumbling sanity.

She stepped to his side, encircling her hand around his bicep with a reassuring squeeze. She didn't say another word, just stood offering silent support that she so regularly extended.

Anger surged in his bones, a fire of resentment licking at every inch of his skin. At the memory of his father's disgusting snarl throughout his childhood. At a snakehead cane connecting with the side of his face. At the recollection of a pair of searing red eyes snarling down at him as the pain of The Dark Mark forced him to blackout.

Draco growled, letting the overwhelming urge of destruction take hold. Suddenly, the Vanishing Cabinet burst into white-hot flames, lighting the entire area with a vigorous radiance. Just as suddenly as the cabinet ignited, it felt as though Draco could finally breathe properly. As if the warmth of his own flames had thawed whatever fear had frozen in his chest.

Watching the cabinet burn felt… powerful. Freeing. Following the fire as it rippled up the dark wood made him want to smile. He startled suddenly as a hand slipped into his, but the succor her touch brought washed another layer of his anguish away. Hermione's shining eyes were gazing up at him when he turned to her, her hand clutching his as she tried not to cry. Draco sought not to read too much into the look on her face, but the pride he found there made his heart sore. She was _proud_ of him.

Pleased for cutting another tie to a life he never wanted to live. Exultant for him for burning the remnants of a mission long ago abandoned. She didn't say a word, but she didn't need to. He could sense the palpable emotion pouring off of her in waves.

"I've found it!" Harry's voice sang over the blaze.

Raven hair appeared around the corner a moment later, walking through the mountainous stacks of junk. He looked briefly at the burning cabinet before stepping beside Hermione.

"What's -"

"This was my mission, Potter. Or part of it.

I told you it was a story for another day," Draco began again, seeking Potter's concerned, emerald gaze. "My mission from The Dark… from… _Voldemort_ ," Draco murmured, and Hermione's hand clutched his tighter, a soft gasp leaving her lips at the first utterance of defiance. "Was to kill Dumbledore."

Draco's heart hammered in his throat at the words said aloud again. At a confession made to someone who could single-handedly ruin his life. But Potter's brows merely knit together, lips pulling into a tight line.

"Then, Katie?" Potter questioned.

"The necklace wasn't meant for her."

"And Ro-"

"The mead wasn't meant for him, either. I was a coward. I couldn't bring myself to deliver anything directly to Dumbledore… He knew. At least, I'm certain he did. The entire time. I take it he didn't stop me because -"

"The curse," Potter finished, and Draco simply nodded.

"I don't think you're a coward, mate," Potter said after an excruciatingly long silence. "Killing him would have made you a coward. But what you're doing, helping us… Well, what I told Slughorn that night, I truly believe it. I still might not like you often, but… I think you're better than what people have made you out to be.

Let's just take this to Dumbledore."

Potter clapped him on the shoulder, and what should have felt disdainful offered Draco a modicum of comfort.

"Thanks… Harry," Draco spoke aloud, and Hermione snorted softly, her expression turning into gawking humor in an instant.

Potter looked just as perplexed, letting the name linger in the air for the three to savor. All Draco could do was laugh as the wrongness of calling Potter by his first name made smiles play at all three's lips.

"Never again?" Potter chimed in mirthfully.

"Absolutely. That felt very uncomfortable," Draco acknowledged.

The raven-haired wizard walked away laughing, the somewhat tarnished Diadem clutched tightly in his hand. Draco turned back to Hermione when she squeezed his hand again, reading the simple delight and a touch of pride for him on her face. She nodded toward the exit as the fire slowly faded behind them, the ash of a life hopefully soon forgotten laying on the floor as they walked away.

Potter was waiting at the doorway with the Invisibility Cloak already slung over his shoulders. He opened it for Draco to step in. It was cramped, but it felt a bit less awkward under the shimmering fabric as they followed Hermione from the doorway toward the stairs into the bowels of the castle.

They were silent on their walk; the hallways were empty save for the snoring of portraits along the walls. And when they reached the Headmaster's office corridor, magic had already turned the stone gargoyle to allow their entrance. Potter slipped the clock off as the three hurried up the stairs, peering through the doorway that opened before Hermione's fingers were able to knock.

Severus was beside Dumbledore, sitting on his desk, feeding the older man a potion that seemed to make his face turn green. Draco had never seen the old man as human as he looked when he blanched, wiping his mouth with his bright red robes. But what humor he found in the man's unusual couth all but vanished when Severus moved, revealing black, boiled, and decrypted skin that spanned up past Dumbledore's elbow.

Hermione gasped at the sight before her, unable to take a seat. Draco wanted to retch at the horror but swallowed thickly, guiding Hermione towards the three chairs waiting before the Headmaster's desk.

Dumbledore must have noticed all three of their gazes lingered on his arm because he pulled his sleeve down before softly clearing his throat.

"Do not worry yourself over me, Ms. Granger," Dumbledore addressed, and Hermione's eyes snapped to the Headmaster's with embarrassment.

"Your potion is not working, sir?"

"Unfortunately, Harry, I do not believe there is any magical cure for this ailment."

Hermione gasped softly, and Draco could see the thoughts swimming in her eyes. "Nothing magical, but perhaps something Muggle?"

"I doubt something muggle could cure such a deeply embedded curse, Ms. Granger, without also killing the Headmaster," Severus intoned.

"Amputation," Hermione murmured. "Amputation is used regularly in the muggle world to help with... problems such as this."

"Amputation won't cure this, Ms. Granger," Severus began again. "The roots of this curse run deep. Deeper than -"

"If the potion is not working, and you'll die regardless, what is the harm in trying?" Hermione exclaimed loudly, her voice cracking with the tears Draco could see in her eyes.

"Severus," Dumbledore spoke softly as Draco stretched out, taking Hermione's hand in his. "Perhaps Ms. Granger has a point."

"Sir, if you perish -"

"Then, I believe we have three competent young individuals to carry on what work needs to be completed."

Severus exhaled with a flat expression. "I will look into the feasibility."

"It must be in the summer."

"You may not have that long, Headmaster. With how quickly your curse is advancing -" Hermione stated, but Dumbledore held up his untarnished hand to halt her.

"There are more important things to do than attending to my health, Ms. Granger."

"Whatever it is, we can handle it," Potter affirmed.

"No, Harry, I couldn't risk your lives -"

"Headmaster, pardon, but we've been risking more than just our lives since October," Draco interjected with determination, making his two companions nod in agreement.

Their point was valid, evident in the deflation of Dumbledore's shoulders and Severus' falling scowl. The Headmaster pondered for a moment, only the sound of saturating the air the countless magical items whirling about his office. Looking to Severus for confirmation, he sighed and nodded only once.

"Very well," Dumbledore sighed, glancing back to Draco, Hermione, and Potter with a grave, serious expression. "I believe I have found a Horcrux - Slytherin's locket, to be precise."

"You've found it?" Potter exclaimed. "That's excellent, Professor; we've found one, too! The Diadem!" Potter set the Diadem on the Headmaster's desk with a vigor Draco hasn't seen since the night he'd imbibed Felix Felicis. "That's two more. We've got _four_ now."

Both Dumbledore and Severus looked shocked but impressed as the Headmaster picked up the Diadem with a gentle, hesitant hand. "Four, yes... This is most excellent work, you three. Where?"

"The Room of Hidden Things," Hermione spouted. "Harry found it. Helena Ravenclaw helped us."

"The Grey Lady shared her secrets," Dumbledore hummed. "You three have done excellent work. Which I hate that I must ask you to continue."

"We want to help," Potter affirmed as the Headmaster handed the Diadem to Severus, who encased it in cloth. "Where is the locket? Where will we find it?"

The Headmaster pointed his wand at a wooden box on his desk, and the lock whirled, clicking open as the lid popped. Dumbledore flipped open the lid and pulled out a photograph that looked older than all three students combined. He slid it across the desk, and Hermione nodded vigorously.

"This picture was in your memory of the orphanage," she murmured.

"Yes, yes, precisely, Ms. Granger. I am pleased you remember it. Such a memory will make your Apparition easier. I believe Voldemort concealed the locket within that rocky cave. I cannot sugarcoat this endeavor. It will be dangerous. It will be arduous. I do not know what lies behind that stone, but you must keep yourself protected. Keep Harry safe."

_It will be dangerous. It will be arduous. Keep yourself protected. Keep Harry safe._

The statements repeated in Draco's mind that night as he laid in his bed in the Slytherin dorms. He didn't sleep, mulling over everything that happened, until the sun rose and with it his dorm mates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, if you read before, Draco had said Voldemort once. But I went back and changed that so it was more impactful in this chapter.
> 
> Kudos, comments, and ConCrit are _always_ appreciated.


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